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BYBURY 


TO 


BEACON   STREET 


BY 

MRS   A   M   DIAZ 

Author  of 

Domestic  Problems 

The  Cats'  Arabian  Nights 

Polly  Cologne 

The  John  Spicer  Lectures 

William  Henry  Letters 

and  others 


BOSTON 
D    LOTHROP    COMPANY 

FRANKLIN   AND  HAWLEY  STREETS 


/ 

Copyright,  1887, 

BY 

D.  LoTHROP  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  The  natural  Way     . 

II.  A  Talk  at  the  Hartmans 

III.  Gathering  together. 

IV.  Do  You  believe  in  Luck  ? 

V.  I  CANNOT  DIG         .... 

VI. '  Aunt  Sylvie's  Letter 

VII.  Is  it  ANY   Damage   to   a   Girl   to   be 

Pretty?      .... 

VIII.  Company  coming 

IX.  Let  us  Visit  one  Another 

X.  Mrs.  Lammerkin's  Account 

XI.  Mr.  Lammerkin's  Endeavors   . 

XII.  Woman,  or  Work  ?    .        .        . 

XIII.  A  HIRED  Girl      .... 

XIV.  Looking  on  both  Sides    . 
XV.  Lightening  the  Load 

XVI.  "Many  Hands  make  light  Work 

XVII.  Husband  and  Wife    .        ., 

XVIII.  A  Talk  matrimonial 

XIX.  Odd  or  Even?    .... 

XX.  The  Beacon  Street  Woman's  Account 

XXI.  Society 

XXIL  Go  into  the  House  when  it  Bains 


Pass. 

7 
13 
20 
29 
87 
45 

63 

62 

70 

77 

86 

96 

103 

113 

119 

127 

137 

149 

157 

168 

180 

189 


2229075 


Contents. 


XXIII. 

COMMONAUTIES 

198 

XXIV. 

Fashion        .        .        .        . 

204 

XXV. 

What  shall  we  do  with  our  Time? 

212 

XXVI. 

What  shall  we  do  with  oltr  Time?  (cob.) 

218 

XXVII. 

The  Root  of  the  Matter 

226 

XXVIII. 

Fair  Pi.ay 

235 

XXIX. 

Sewing  and  other  Work 

243 

XXX. 

Who  shall  decide? 

251 

XXXI. 

Lucinda's  Letter 

261 

XXXIT. 

Miss  Hunt's  Lktier  to  Lucinda     . 

268 

BYBURY  TO  BEACON  STREET 


BYBURY  TO  BEACON  STREET. 


I. 


THE  NATURAL  WAY. 


Friend  Solomon: 

Can  you  not,  seeing  that  you  are  named  for  a 
wise  man,  suggest  some  wise  plan  for  helping  us 
through  the  winter?  We  are  a  small  neighbor- 
hood, wedged  in  among  the  hills,  with  many  long 
evenings  in  prospect.  These  evenings  might  be 
made  profitable,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  if 
we  only  knew  how  to  make  them  so.  What  I 
should  like  would  be  to  bring  the  people  together 
occasionally;  but,  when  we  are  brought  together, 
what  shall  we  do?  And  whether  the  older  ones 
will  let  themselves  be  brought  together  or  not  is  a 
question,  as  some  of  them  are  shy  of  anything 
which  savors  of  improvement.  I  have  mentioned 
the   subject   once   or  twice,  but  with  indifferent 

success. 

7 


8  The  Natural  Way. 

"  I  know  what  'tis  owin'  to,  Cap'n  Jerome," 
said  Parson  Chandler  the  other  day,  speaking  in 
his  usual  solemn  manner,  "  'tis  all  owin'  to  your 
bein'  an  old  bachelor,  that  you  expect  to  reg'late 
things,  and  make  'em  do  right.  An  old  bachelor 
is  self-adjustin',  so  to  speak.  He  can  reg'late  his 
affairs  to  suit  himself.  He  can  spend  his  money 
on  books,  and  his  time  in  perusin'  'em.  But  if 
ever  you  should  come  to  be  a  married  man,  Cap'n 
Jerome,  you'll  find  there  must  be  victuals  to  eat 
and  clothes  to  wear.  And  it  isn't  doin'  a  woman 
a  deed  o'  kindness  to  tell  her  to  neglect  her  work, 
and  ease  off  her  cookin'  and  go  here  and  go  there. 
What's  the  use  of  all  this  reformation?  Folks 
have  settled  down  into  regular  habits ;  and  'tis  best 
to  let  things  go  on  in  the  natural  way." 

Parson  Chandler  is  no  more  a  parson  than  I  am 
a  captain.  We  are  both  of  us  plain  working  men. 
He  gets  his  title  from  his  unwavering  gravity  of 
demeanor.  I  can  only  account  for  mine  by  the 
fact  of  my  having  been,  perhaps,  rather  over- 
zealous  in  attempting  to  reform  certain  habits  of 
living  which  prevail  in  Bybury,  and  by  my  sub- 
scribing to  so  many  periodicals  as  to  be  accused, 
behind  my  back,  of  putting  on  airs.  Reformers  do 
sometimes   make   themselves   ridiculous   by   their 


The  Natural  Way.  9 

oiRciousness ;  but  I  have  never  been  able  to  dis- 
cern this  quality  in  my  own  efforts,  all  of  wliich 
have  seemed  to  me  warranted  by  the  circumstances 
and  by  common  sense. 

The  closing  sentence  of  Parson  Chandler's  ad- 
dress is  one  with  which  I  have  become  exceedingly 
familiar  — "  the  natural  way."  Let  me  attack, 
ever  so  mildly,  any  habit  or  routine,  and  I  am  sure 
to  encounter  this  phrase,  used  in  one  shape  or 
another.  Some  people  set  it  up  as  a  wall  of  de- 
fence; others  seem  to  consider  it  a  final,  knock- 
down argument,  and  hurl  it  at  me  with  a  kind  of 
"  now-you're-done-f or  "  air,  as  if  no  reasoning  could 
stand  that  blow. 

The  aggravating  mixture  of  solemnity  and  de- 
cision in  Parson  Chandler's  utterance  caused  me 
to  jot  down  certain  remarks  on  the  habits  of  the 
neighborhood,  just  for  the  sake  of  considering 
whether  these  habits  are  or  are  not  in  accordance 
with  the  "  natural  way." 

Remark  first :  Generally  speaking,  every  avail- 
able moment  is  spent  in  physical  labor.  "  So 
tired."  The  expression  is  so  much  used  that 
the  meaning  has  almost  gone  out  of  it. 

Remark  second :  Too  little  sociability.  Several 
families  have  "  feelings  "  toward  each  other,  which 


lO  77*!^  Natural   Way. 

"  feelings  "  would  probably  die  out  were  the  fam- 
ilies to  meet  oftener  and  have  more  interests  in 
common. 

Remark  third :  Too  marked  a  division  between 
the  older  and  younger  people. 

Remark  fourth:  Not  much  progression.  The 
mental  faculties  are  not  being  sufficiently  devel- 
oped. As  proof,  I  give,  word  for  word,  a  conver- 
sation which  recently  took  place  in  my  hearing, 
and  which  almost  exactly  resembles  the  conversa- 
tions I  used  to  hear,  among  my  aunts  and  grand- 
mothers, forty  years  ago. 

(Conversation).  —  "Do  you  think  he'll  marry 
the  widow?" 

"  He'll  stan'   in  his  own  light  if  he  does." 

"  Some  think  they'll  both  stan'  in  their  own 
lights." 

"  She  needs  a  home." 

"  And  he  needs  a  housekeeper." 

"  They  say  she's  worth  a  little  somethin'." 

(Doubtfully.)  "May  be  so.  I  don't  trouble 
myself  about  other  folks's  matters.  She  might 
have  had  somethin' ;  but  she's  one  o'  that  kind 
it  don't  take  'em  long  to  run  through  a  prop- 
erty." 

"  Well,  for   my   part,  I'm    willin'    they  should 


The  Natural  Way.  il 

suit  themselves;    and   I've   been   told   'tis    quite 
pleasin'  to  her  folks." 

"  How  is  it  with  his  folks  ?  " 

"Hem!  —  Now  don't  tell  this  from  me;  but  I 
have  heard  'twasn't  quite  so  pleasin'.  You  know 
she's  sort  of  unfacultied, — no  calculation;  don't 
know  when  to  put  her  potatoes  in  the  pot,  as  the 
old  sayin'  is." 

"  She  holds  her  age  pretty  well." 

"Yes,  middlin'  well.  She's  a  good  deal  be- 
holden to  dress,  though." 

.  "  I  think,  myself,  she's  too  old  to  wear  flowers 
in  her  bonnet." 

"  That  was  a  handsome  cloak  she  had  on  last 
Sunday." 

"  Yes ;  I  noticed  that  cloak.  Do  you  think  she 
had  it  given  to  her,  or  bought  it  right  out  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  some  folks  say  she'd  take 
extra  pains  with  her  looks  at  this  particular  time, 
if  it  took  her  last  cent." 

"  I  suppose  she's  aware  he  has  his  failin's." 

"  Anything  in  particular  ?  " 

"  Why,  didn't  you  ever  hear  ?  But  maybe  'tis 
only  on  extra  occasions." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he's  ever  overcome 
with  liquor?" 


12  The  Natural  Way. 

"  Well,  I  have  heard  it  hinted.  Sam  Knowles's 
wife  told  me  that  at  their  barn-raisin'  —  now  don't 
tell  of  this  from  me,  for  she  didn't  want  it  men- 
tioned," — 

"  Oh !  I  shouldn't  think  of  mentioning  it." 

"  Well,  Sam  Knowles's  wife  told  me  that  at 
their  barn-raisin',  the  other  day,  he  was  just  about 
how  fares  ye."     [End  of  conversation.] 

Remark  fifth:  Too  little  mirth.  The  greater 
part  of  the  elder  people  are,  so  to  speak,  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  gravity.  With  them,  a  serious  face 
is  a  satisfactory  endorsement  of  its  owner.  To  be 
grave  is  to  be  good.  Fun  is,  in  some  cases,  ex- 
cusable, never  commendable.  Their  joining  in  a 
simple  game,  or  witnessing  an  entertainment,  for 
the  avowed  purpose  of  being  amused,  would  be 
considered,  by  themselves,  as  improper,  if  not 
actually  sinful.  If  surprised  into  a  laugh,  the 
laugh  is  commonly  atoned  for  by  superadded  dole- 
fulness,  and  by  the  countenance  taking  on  a  sort  of 
apologetic  expression,  the  idea  being  that  laughter 
is  something  foreign  to  the  real  purposes  of  life. 


n. 


a  talk  at  the  hartmaks. 

Friend  Solomon: 

Consult  the  women  about  this  plan  of  mine  ?  I 
believe  you  are  right.  They  might,' as  you  say, 
make  suggestions  which  masculine  slowness  would 
not  think  of.  The  only  wonder  is  how  your  mas- 
culine slowness  ever  conceived  so  bright  an  idea. 
As  to  "  the  materials  which  Bybury  offers  to  work 
with,"  we  have  Parson  Chandler — otherwise  Mr. 
Jason  Chandler — and  his  wife,  and  various  other 
staid,  elderly,  hard-working  people,  married  and 
unmarried.  For  liveliness,  we  have  a  dozen  or 
more  of  young  Byburyites,  who  occasionally  gather 
together,  by  themselves ;  and  we  have,  also,  some 
lively  ones  among  the  "betwixt  and  between,"  as 
certain  individuals  are  called,  who  seem  too  old  to 
keep  company  with  the  young  folks,  and  too  young 
to  settle  down  for  old  folks.  And  we  have  cer- 
tainly one  lively  one  in  Miss  'Cinda    [Lucinda] 

»3 


14  A   Talk  at  the  Hart  mans. 

Potter,  who  though  an  old  maid  of  —  I  dare  not 
say  how  many  years,  does  the  biggest  part  of  what 
there  is  done  to  keep  life  in  the  place.  For  com- 
mon sense  and  general  information,  I  must  men- 
tion, in  an  especial  manner,  this  same  Miss  'Cinda 
and  her  sister  Mary  Ann,  nearly  as  old  as  herself, 
and  the  Alderson  family.  For  industry,  integrity, 
and  natural  kind-heartedness,  we  have  a  pretty 
good  share  of  the  whole  population.  This  natural 
kind-heartedness  has  been  damaged,  in  some  in- 
stances, by  certain  gossipy  habits  which  would  be 
given  up,  I  am  sure,  if  the  people  could  be  made 
interested  in  subjects  worth  talking  about. 

Miss  'Cindy,  Mary  Ann  and  myself  stepped  in 
to  see  Allen  Hartman  and  liis  wife,  that  evening, 
and  laid  before  them  our  plan,  the  two  ladies,  of 
course,  doing  the  chief  of  the  talking;  because  they 
had  brighter  thoughts  than  I  had  and  a  handier 
use  of  words.  I,  for  one,  never  feel  like  making 
flings  at  womankind  on  accou'nt  of  their  glibness, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  have  a  sense  of  thankfulness 
that  there  is  a  force  among  us  wliich  has  the  power 
to  work  up  some  of  my  own  feelings  into  thoughts, 
and  then  put  the  thoughts  into  words. 

"  Mr.  Mundy  thinks,"  said  Mary  Ann  that  even- 
ing, "that,  as  we  are  a  little  nest  of  people  shut 


A   Talk  at  the  Harttnans.  \% 

in  here  for  the  winter,  we  should  make  the  most 
of  ourselves  and  of  each  other." 

"  That  has  a  sensible  sound,"  said  Allen,  but  how 
shall  we  do  it?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Mundy  thinks,"  said  Mary  Ann, 
"that  the  neighbors  should  meet  together  of  an 
evening,  say  once  a  week,  or  once  a  fortnight." 

"  For  fun  ?  "  AUen  asked  her. 

"It  won't  do  to  say  fun,"  said  Miss  'Cindy. 
"It  won't  do  to  say  it.  Imagine  Mr.  'Parson' 
Chandler  and  Mrs.  '  Parson '  having  fun  in  earnest ! 
But  we'll  mean  fun." 

"  Call  it  recreation,"  said  Eunice. 

"  The  grown-up  ones  won't  enlist  under  any  such 
useless  banner,"  said  Miss  'Cindy. 

I  asked,  "Why  not  say  for  general  entertain- 
ment?" 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Allen,  "  that  you  will  have 
to  begin  with  instruction,  pure  and  simple,  and 
enlist  us  under  that  banner.  The  Yankee  mind  is 
always  willing  to  be  instructed." 

"  It  likes  to  be  amused,  too,"  said  Eunice. 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  adult  Yankee  mind  of  Bybury  will 
not  seek  its  amusement  with  malice  aforethought," 
said  Miss  'Cindy. 

"  The  coming  together  Ls  of  itself  a  mighty  good 


l6  A   Talk  at  the  Hartmans. 

thing,"  said  Allen.  "Even  in  this  small  place  there 
is  too  great  a  separation  of  interests.  We  have 
our  little  rivalries,  our  jealousies,  misunderstand- 
ings, fault-findings,  hard  feelings,  and  hurt  feelings, 
which  keep  us  apart.  We'll  come  together  and  rub 
off  the  boundary  lines." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  we  must  have  more  in  common. 
We  must  think  together  and  talk  together." 

"  And  laugh  together,"  cried  Miss  'Cindy.  "  Peo- 
ple always  feel  friendly  when  they  are  laughing 
together."  "  And  we  might  bring  up  in  the  conver- 
sation," said  Mary  Ann,  "some  of  the  subjects 
which  are  so  much  talked  about  and  written  about, 
nowadays." 

"  Yes  indeed ! "  I  exclaimed,  with  more  earnest- 
ness than  I  intended.  "  Any  subjects  which  have 
to  do  with  life  and  living." 

Said  Eunice  to  her  husband,  "  Allen,  what  makes 
you  look  so  roguishly  at  Cap'n  'Jerome,  otherwise 
Mr.  Mundy?" 

"Because,"  said  Allen,  "I  suspect  otherwise  Mr. 
Mundy  of  serious  views.  His  talk  has  been  of 
entertainment.  I  have  no  confidence  in  him. 
He  means  to  do  us  good.  Entertainment  indeed ! 
There'll  be  matters  of  impoi-tance  smuggled  in. 
Mark  my  word !  " 


A   Talk  at  the  Hartmaus.  ly 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  if  fun  isn't  a  matter  of 
importance  ?  "  cried  Miss  'Cindy. 

"Great,  very  great,"  said  Allen.  "It  is  the 
lubricating  oil  which  makes  life  go  better.  But 
then,  there  must  be  something  to  go.  There  must 
be  purposes,  motives,  actions." 

"  The  worst  thing  about  that  house,"  said  Mary 
Ann,  as  we  came  out  of  the  yard,  "is,  that  'tis  a 
very  hard  place  to  get  away  from." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Miss  'Cindy.  "The  whole 
family  are  so  pleasantnspoken,  and  so  wide-awake, 
so  harmonious,  too,»  always  on  the  best  terms  with 
each  other.  How  the}'-  get  hold  of  so  many  ideas 
in  this  out-of-the-way  place,  is  a  wonder ! " 

"  Why,  they  make  it  an  object  to  read  a  little  of 
the  best  kind  of  reading,  every  day,"  said  Mary 
Ann. 

"  They  seem  to  be  wide  awake  all  over,"  said  I. 
"  They  are  what  may  be  called  whole  people." 

"  Whole  people  I  that's  it  exactly,"  said  Miss 
'Cindy.  "  I  came  across  a  word  to-day  which  just 
suits  them :  Equa-responsive.  They  answer  back 
at  whatever  point  you  touch  them.  Try  them  with 
a  pitiful  story,  or  a  good  joke,  or  a  work  of  charity, 
or  a  grand  idea,  or  with  anything  beautiful  among 


1 8  A   Talk  at  the  Hartmans. 

God's  works,  no  matter  whether  'tis  a  flower,  or 
the  blue  sea,  or  a  rainbow,  and  they  always  have 
the  kind  of  feeling  you  want  them  to  have." 

"  And  whole  people  are  not  §o  easy  to  find,"  said 
Mary  Ann.  "There's  Mrs.  Brown,  one  of  Uncle 
Ben's  summer  boarders.  I  noticed  that  she  re- 
sponded upon  subjects  that  had  to  do  with  what 
she  called  'society,'  and  those  were  about  all.  I 
mean  the  Mrs.  Brown  that  sat  with  her  back  to  the 
sunset  and  counted  her  stitches." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  people  in  Bybury,"  said  I, 
"  who  will  respond  only  inside  fhe  bounds  of  their 
every-day  work,  or  every-day  tittle-tattle,  or  the 
receipt  book,  or — the  fashions."  (Yes,  fashions, 
even  here !) 

And  this  is  true,  and  these  are  the  very  ones  who 
say  that  Allen  and  Eunice  and  Miss  'Cindy  and 
Mary  Ann  and  some  others,  are  bookworms,  and 
are  above  common  things.  As  to  that  matter, 
sometimes  I  think  a  person  has  to  do  considerable 
studying  to  find  out  that  there's  nothing  low  or 
common  in  the  humblest  of  Go'd's  works.  For  the 
general  run  of  us  Bybury  folks  don't  make  much 
account  of  bumble-bees  and  millers  and  creeping 
things,  but  let  a  man  who  has  studied  into  the  habits 


A   Talk  at  the  Hartmans.  19 

of  these  creatures  come  into  the  place,  and  he'll  be 
running  after  them  night  and  day,  and  if  you  won- 
der at  his  taking  so  much  interest,  he'll  tell  you 
that  the  life  of  a  worm  is  as  hard  to  account  for  as 
the  life  of  an  emperor. 


m. 


GATHERING   TOGETHER. 


Friend  Solomon: 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  take  an  interest  in 
our  small  doings.  We  call  our  meetings  the  "  By- 
bury  Gatherings."  This  name  suits  us  better  than 
"  club,"  or  "  society,"  or  anything  of  that  sort ;  as 
all  we  mean  to  do  is  to  come  together  in  a  social 
way,  for  fun,  and  for  profit,  and  for  the  sake  of 
seeing  each  other.  Even  Miss  'Cindy,  who  is  so 
earnest  for  fun,  agreed  that  the  subject  for  the  first 
gathering  should  hold  out  promise  of  pretty  nearly 
unmixed  profit,  as  otherwise  the  serious-minded 
would  hold  back.  She  called  me  in,  one  day,  as  I 
was  going  along  the  road  past  Eunice  Hartman's, 
and  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  "  Wickliffe  "  as 
the  first  subject. 

"  Allen  and  I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Eunice, 
"  that  the  facts  relating  to  the  life  and  death  of 
Wickliffe  will  give  the  instruction  which,  you  know, 


Gatherijig  Together.  '  21 

the  Yankee  mind  is  always  willing  and  glad  to 
get." 

I  asked  how  they  would  obtain  the  facts.  Eunice 
said  they  had  a  friend  in  the  city  who  would 
like  to  search  out  facts  for  them  in  the  encyclo- 
paedias, but  that,  before  troubling  this  friend,  she 
should  send  Susie,  her  oldest  girl,  to  see  what  could 
be  found  in  the  Hamlenton  library.  Hamlenton  is 
a  small  town,  some  six  or  eight  miles  from  Bybury. 
A  neighbor  of  Eunice's,  —  Mrs.  Hunt,  —  who  had 
happened  to  drop  in,  with  her  work,  looked  up  in 
astonishment,  upon  hearing  Eunice's  remark. 

"  What !  "  said  she  ;  "  send  Susie  all  the  way  to 
Hambleton  just  to  get  a  book  ?  Seems  to  me  you 
put  yourself  out  a  good  deal." 

This  shows  how  cUfferently  different  people  look 
at  things,  and  how  differently  they  bring  up  their 
children  to  look  at  things.  Now  Eunice  brings  up 
her  children  to  think  that  books  and  ideas  and  use- 
ful information  are  just  what  they  should  put  them- 
selves out  to  get ;  Mrs.  Hunt  looks  at  them  as 
being  of  small  importance,  and  would  give  them 
only  the  time  not  wanted  for  other  matters.  You 
will  observe  that,  though  not  a  family  man,  I  take 
notice  how  families  are  being  brought  up.  The 
truth  is,  I  am  keeping  a  sort  of  lookout  upon  people 


22  •  Gat  he  ring  Together. 

generally,  to  see  who  are  getting  the  most  —  that 
is,  the  best  —  out  of  life. 

You  will  want  to  hear  about  our  first  gathering. 
It  proved  a  greater  success,  even,  than  we  had  hoped. 
The  young  people  were  glad  enough  to  hear  a 
plan  which  would  bring  them  together  occasionally. 
The  grown-up  folks  held  back  at  first.  They  were 
too  old,  or  too  busy,  or  —  though  they  cUd  not  say 
this —  too  solemn,  to  stir  out  from  their  homes  for  a 
purpose  which  savored,  in  the  least,  of  frivolity.  But 
human  beings,  however  old,  or  busy,  or  solemn,  do 
have  a  natural  liking  for  each  other's  society  ;  and 
this  natural  liking,  together  with  our  exceedingly 
proper  subject,  proved  sufficiently  "  drawing  "  even 
for  Mr.  Parson  Chandler  and  Mrs.  Paraon,  and 
others  who,  like  them,  are  on  the  very  shady  side  of 
fifty.  Most  of  us  Bybur}^  people  had  ideas,  more 
or  less,  concerning  Wickliffe.  Some  knew  that  his 
ashes  were  dug  up,  and  thrown  into  a  brook ;  many 
knew  that  he  was  connected  with  the  Reformation ; 
and  all  of  us  were  willing  to  have  our  knowledge 
of  him  put  into  accurate  shape,  and  more  added 
thereunto. 

We  met  at  Mr.  Jedediah  Johnson's,  his  home 
being  large  and  central.  Mr.  Johnson  and  his  wife 
—  Mrs.  Elsie  —  live  on  a  farm.     They  are  hard- 


Gathering  Together.  23 

working  people,  and  have  with  them  two  hard- 
working daughters,  and  a  hard-working  son,  all 
grown  up.  Indeed,  little  Jed,  as  the  son  is  called, 
—  or  sometimes  Jeddy,  or  Jed,  —  must  have  got 
his  growth  of  six  feet  twenty  years  ago,  at  the  least 
calculation.  Little  Jed  is  one  of  what  my  Brother 
Sam  calls  the  "  snickerin' "  kind.  He  has  plenty 
of  fun  aboard;  but,  unless  he's  pretty  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  company,  he  won't  say  any- 
thing, but  just  gets  up  in  a  corner,  and  nudges, 
and  grunts,  and  makes  up  faces,  and  chuckles 
without  showing  that  he's  chuckling,  and  talks  in 
undertones.  You  only  know  what's  going  on  by 
the  "  snickerin'  "  in  that  particular  corner.  Tliis 
is  just  the  way  it  was  that  night  of  our  meeting. 
But  then  Jeddy  '11  work  in  well  enough  by  and  by ; 
for  there's  good  stuff  in  him.  The  schoolmaster 
was  there  that  night,  and  two  or  tliree  people  who 
were  visiting  in  the  place.  Jeddy 's  sistei-s  did 
their  part  well ;  and  I  may  say  all  the  young  folks 
did  well.  They  had  been  told  to  appear  lively,  but 
not  so  lively  as  to  cause  such  people  as  Mr.  Par- 
son and  Mrs.  Parson  to  feel  out  of  place.  Some  of 
the  grown-up  ones  were  sociable  and  pliable ;  others 
took  their  seats  in  a  stiff,  conference-meeting  sort 
of  way,  which  was  rather  too  long  in  wearing  off. 


24  Gathering  Together. 

While  the  people  were  assembling,  Miss  'Cindy 
said  to  me,  in  an  undertone,  as  she  passed  by, 
"  Something  else  in  common,  Mr.  Mundy,"  then 
glanced  very  mischievously  at  the  looking-glass. 
She  was  alluding  to  one  of  my  favorite  hobbies ; 
namely,  that  all  classes  of  people  —  the  young  and 
the  old,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  good  and  the 
bad  —  have  more  in  common  than  is  generally 
thought. 

Having  my  attention  thus  directed,  I  was  led  to 
observe  that  the  elderly  women  were  as  anxious 
for  the  becoming  arrangement  of  their  scant  locks, 
their  bows  and  their  cap-strings,  as  were  the  younger 
ones  to  get  the  most  telling  effects  from  their  crimps, 
their  ringlets,  and  their  "  fix-ups,"  as  Mary  Ann 
calls  the  little  ornamental  gear  of  feminine  array. 
Mary  Ann's  hobby  Is  plainness  in  dress.  Eunice 
doesn't  agree  with  her ;  and  this  subject  may  come 
up  in  our  gatherings. 

"  Have  you  made  a  note  of  it  ?  "  Miss  'Cindy 
asked  me,  the  next  time  passing. 

"  O  yes !  "  said  I.  [Mem.  :  One  thing  which 
women  of  all  ages  have  in  common  is  that  regard 
for  personal  appearance  which  some  call  vanity.] 

"  Why  do  you  confine  your  '  Mem.'  to  women  ?  " 
asked  Eunice  Hartman. 


Gathering  Together.  25 

"  Because,"  said  I,  "  you  don't  see  the  men  wait- 
ing for  a  chance  at  the  glass,  and  crowding  around 
it,  and  prinking,  and  tiptoeing,  and  smootliing  their 
neckties."  • 

Miss  'Cindy  laughed  as  she  turned  her  snapping 
black  eyes  towards  the  kitchen-door.  In  the  porch, 
on  a  rusty  spike,  hung  and  swung  an  irregularly- 
shaped  piece  of  looking-glass,  placed  there  for  the 
benefit  of  ]Mr.  Johnson  and  Jeddy,  who,  when  they 
come  in  from  work,  sometimes  "  prink  "  before  it 
to  the  extent  of  a  few  dabs. with  the  hair-brush. 
The  brush  hangs  on  another  spike.  That  looking- 
glass  answers  its  purpose  tolerably  well,  consider- 
ing its  liking  to  turn  round  on  its  string,  and 
that  the  quicksilver  is  missing  in  spots ;  for  both 
these  objections  can  be  overcome  by  practice  in 
dodging. 

Following  the  direction  of  Miss  '  Cindy's  sly 
glance,  I  noticed  that  almost  every  one  of  the 
young  fellows,  before  coming  in,  cast  a  quick  look 
around,  to  see  if  he  were  observed,  then,  with  some 
secrecy,  drew  forth  a  pocket-comb,  stepped  towards 
the  hanging  glass,  touched  up  his  hair,  his  mustache, 
his  whiskers,  and  surveyed  himself,  with  anxiety, 
or  with  satisfaction,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
case. 


26  Gathering  Together. 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "  I  will  insert '  and  young 
men. 

"  You  may  as  well  say  '  all  people,'  "  she  replied. 
"  Thei;e's  Cap'n  Zach,  nigh  upon  sixty.  Cap'n  Zach, 
as  you  may  see  if  you  look,  is  not  going  to  present 
himself  until  he  is  satisfied  that  his  bald  place  is 
covered,  and  covered  decently.  There's  nothing 
out  of  the  way  in  this  ;  it  is  the  duty  of  all  to  look 
as  well  as  they  can ;  only  please  arrange  your 
'  Mem.'  so  as  to  give  your  own  sex  its  share  of 
personal  vanity." 

"  Still,"  said  I,  "  you  must  allow  that,  generally 
speaking,  men  do  not  look  in  the  looking-glass  as 
often  as  women.  It  is  not  so  much  an  article  of 
necessity  to  them." 

"  Because,"  said  Miss  'Cindy,  "  men  have  no  rib- 
bons, laces,  and  other  flying,  frisky,  fluttering  things 
to  attend  to ;  no  crimps,  curLs,  and  braids  to  keep 
in  place.  Men's  attire  is  not  easily  disarranged. 
It  has  fixedness.  It  is  a  sort  of  outside  case,  which 
takes  him  in,  and  shuts  him  up ;  and  there  he  is, 
good  for  all  day." 

Willie  we  were  talking,  Mary  Ann  came  up. 

"  Mrs.  Lem  Hunt  and  Mrs.  Joshua  Hunt  are 
quite  sociable  together,"  said  she. 

"  And  why  not?  "  asked  Eunice. 


Gathering  Together.  27 

"  "VMiy,  quite  a  wMe  ago,"  said  Mary  Ann, 
"  Sarah  Luce  —  a  mischief  and  dressmaker  —  told 
Mrs.  Joshua  that  Mrs.  Lem  said  that  Mr.  Joshua 
was  a  well-meaning  man,  but  would  never  set  the 
great  pond  afire  ;  and  Mrs.  Joshua  has  had  feelings 
towards  Mrs.  Lem  ever  since." 

"  But  what  are  they  talking  about  so  fast  ? " 
asked  Eunice. 

"  Oh  I  about  their  children,"  said  Mary  Ann. 
"  Mrs.  Joshua  is  telling  what  her  little  Joshua  can 
do,  and  Mrs.  Lem  is  telling  what  her  little  Lem 
can  do." 

"  Common  ground  again,  Mr.  Mundy,"  said  Miss 
'Cmdy. 

"  Exactly,"  said  I ;  "  and  quite  likely  Mrs.  Joshua 
will  feel  more  friendly  toward  Mi-s.  Lem  for  meet- 
ing on  that  common  ground." 

"  And,  feeling  more  friendly,"  said  Mary  Ann, 
"  she  may  think  of  the  affront  somewhat  after  this 
fashion :  '  To  be  sure,  Mr.  Joshua  is  a  moderate 
sort  of  man ;  and  perhaps  he  can't  set  the  great 
pond  afire.  If  he  can't,  Mrs.  Lem  told  the  truth. 
If  he  can,  Mrs.  Lem's  saying  he  can't  won't  hinder 
him  from  doing  it;  and,  if  worst  comes  to  worst, 
and  I  should  have  to  choose  between  the  two,  I'd 
sooner  have  him  well-meaning  than  to  have  him 


28  -        Gathering  Together. 

set  the  great  pond  afire.  And  likely  as  not  Mrs. 
Lem  never  made  that  speech  out  of  her  own  head. 
Likely  as  not  Sarah  Luce  asked  her  if  she  thought 
Mr.  Joshua  would  ever  set  the  great  pond  afire, 
and  she  said  no.'  " 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  Eunice,  "  that  one  person 
can  ever  really  injure  another  •  person  ?  I  don't 
mean  in  the  way  of  reputation,  or  fortune,  or  en- 
joyment ;  I  mean  injure  the  person  himself." 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Miss  'Cindy  ;  "  of  course  not. 
A  man  is  what  he  is.  Saying  that  he  is  thus  and 
so  does  not  make  him  either  thus  or  so." 

Mary  Ann  is  firm  in  the  faith  that  bringing 
us  often  together  is  going  to  prevent  unfriendly 
feelings,  and  quench  gossip. 


do  you  believe  in  luck? 

Friend  Solomon: 

Do  you  believe  in  luck  ?  We  had  quite  a  dis- 
cussion on  the  subject  last  evening.  Some  of  the 
company  were  speaking  of  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Jones's, 
one  Hannah  Bryant,  who  moved  from  Bybury 
Centre  some  fifteen  yeai-s  ago.  She  is  a  city  lady 
now,  keeps  her  carriage,  lives  in  style,  has  a  son  in 
college,  and  her  daughters  have  the  best  of  every- 
thing, so  Eunice  told  us.  Mrs.  Chandler  remarked 
that  it  was  wonderful  what  luck  that  woman  had, 
and  others  present  expressed  similar  sentiments. 
Presently  Miss  'Cindy  spoke  up  and  asked  this 
question,  — 

"  Was  it  luck  that  did  it?  " 

"I  had  that  same  thought  myself,"  said  Mrs. 
Jones;  "for  I  was  looking  back  and  bringing  to 
mind  just  how  Hannah  Bryant  began.  She  and 
Lucy  Ann  Hall  were  left  widows  at  just  about  the 

29 


30  Do   You  Believe  in  Luck? 

same  time,  and  both  in  poor  circumstances.  The 
neighbors  helped  them,  but  helped  Lucy  Ann  more, 
because  her  children  always  looked  so  poverty- 
stricken.  Lucy  Ann  depended  on  the  neighbors, 
and  if  one  of  the  children  lacked  a  garment,  waited 
till  the  garment  came.  You  didn't  catch  Hannah 
Bryant  doing  that.  She  had  more  ambition.  Lucy 
Ann  took  in  sewing,  and  Hannah  took  in  sewing. 
One  day  Hannah  said  to  me,  '  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  bring  up  my  children  and  keep  my  family  to- 
gether in  this  way.  I  must  try  something  else.' 
And  what  do  you  think  she  did  ?  She  made  up  six 
shirts  in  the  very  best  manner,  borro\\;ed  money  for 
travelling  expenses  —  she  had  a  first-rate  character 
for  honesty  —  carried  those  shirts  to  the  city,  and 
sold  them  to  a  man  who  dealt  in  gentlemen's  wear. 
He  wanted  more.  She  found  out  from  him  what 
was  the  common  price  for  making  one  sliirt,  and  at 
what  rate  he  would  pay  a  person  who  would  take 
them  out  by  the  quantity  —  that  is,  take  the  materi- 
als —  and  guarantee  that  they  would  be  well  made. 
Of  course  there  was  profit  in  this  business,  and  right 
enough,  for  there  was  responsibility.  She  got  a 
recommendation  of  character  from  the  selectmen 
and  the  minister,  and  the  shirt-dealer  sent  her  cloth 
for  a  few  dozen  shirts.     There  were  women  enough 


Do   You  Believe  in  Luckf  3 1 

glad  to  make  them,  though  this  was  before  the  days 
of  sewing  macliines.  Her  business  increased.  She 
moved  from  By  bury  Centre  to  Overton,  and  finally 
moved  into  the  city.  She  is  a  partner,  now,  in 
a  large  gentlemen's  furnishing  establishment,  has 
money  in  banks,  bonds,  stocks,  and  nobody  knows 
where." 

"  And  how  about  Lucy  Ann  ?  "  some  one  asked. 

"Lucy  Ann,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  "just  mulled 
along,  as  you  may  say,  earned  about  half  a  living 
and  depended  on  charity  for  the  other  half.  Her 
children  were  taken  out  of  school  as  soon  as  they 
were  big  enough  to  earn  anything,  and  put  here 
and  there,  according  as  places  could  be  found. 
They  are  all  poor ;  and  so  is  Lucy  Ann." 

"They  may  take  just  as  much  comfort  as  the 
Bryant  folks,"  said  IMrs.  Chandler,  after  a  pause  in 
the  conversation. 

"Of  course  they  may,"  said  Allen  Hartman, 
"but  that  is  not  our  question.  Our  question  is, 
Was  Hannah  Bryant's  success  owing  to  luck  ?  " 

"I  suppose,"  said  Eunice,  "that  by  luck  we 
mean  something  outside  of  ourselves.  Now  how 
was  it  with  Mrs.  Bryant?  In  the  first  place,  there 
was  the  ambition  to  keep  her  family  together  and 
to  give  them  advantages.     Then,  the  energy  which 


32  Do   You  Believe  in  Luckf 

led  her  to  strike  out  a  path  for  herself.  There 
must  have  been  nice  sewing  on  those  gussets  and 
bands  and  seams,  and  button-holes,  or  the  shu-t- 
dealer  wouldn't  have  liked  her  work.  The  shirts 
afterwards  sent  in  must  have  been  well  made 
and  promptly  forwarded,  or  he  would  not  have  let 
her  go  on.  To  get  such  quantities  of  work  done 
well  in  every  little  particular  required  great  care 
and  watclifulness,  not  to  mention  the  labor  of  car- 
rying on  such  a  business.  Just  the  shapes  of  the 
button-holes,  or  the  stitehes  round  their  edges, 
might  have  stopped  her  career  in  the  very  begin- 
ning." 

"  Let  us  make  a  count  of  her  qualifications,"  said 
Miss  Hunt,  "  as  given  thus  far.  Ambition,  energy, 
honesty,  skill,  determination,  industry,  promptness, 
faithfulness  in  details,  perseverance  —  there's  no 
need  of  going  outside  of  Hannah  Bryant  to  account 
for  Hannah  Bryant's  success." 

Mr.  Johnson  said,  "  that  for  his  part  he  had  al- 
ways noticed  that  people  went  up  just  as  high  as 
the  power  inside  of  them  would  take  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  as  a  general  tiling  we 
make  our  own  fortunes.  Each  one  carves  for  him- 
self, or  for  herself,  his  or  her  own  niche  to  stand 
in.     I  can  see  how  my  scholars  make  places  for 


Do   You  Believe  in  Liickf  33 

themselves  in  the  estimation  of  the  school,  some  by 
their  good-heartedness,  some  by  their  brightness, 
some  by  their  truth,  some  by  their  untruth,  some 
by  their  meanness,  some  by  their  jollity,  and  so  on." 

"  I  knew  a  young  man,"  said  Allen,  "  who  went 
into  a  large  dry-goods  store,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  was  made  head  salesman.  Some  people  said, 
'  What  a  lucky  fellow ! '  One  day  I  was  speaking 
of  this  to  the  proprietors.  They  said  luck  had 
nothing  to  do  with  his  case,  but  that  he  had  in 
him  exactly  the  qualities  which  make  a  first-rate 
salesman.  Take  notice  that  they  said  '  in  him.' 
Business  being  dull,  several  of  the  clerks  had  been 
dismissed.  One  of  them  —  I'll  call  him  Ben  —  was 
a  particular  friend  of  mine ;  an  honest,  steady  fel- 
low. 

I  asked  one  of  the  proprietors  how  they  hap- 
pened to  select  him  to  send  away.  '  Oh,'  said  he, 
*  there's  no  happening  in  these  matters  any  more 
than  there  is  luck.  In  ordinary  times  we  should 
have  kept  Ben,  but  in  times  like  these  we  keep  the 
ones  who  are  the  most  valuable  to  us.  Ben  did  all 
that  was  strictly  required  of  him,  but  nothing  more. 
He  never  exerted  himself  for  the  interests  of  the 
firm,  and  he  was  particular  not  to  work  over  hours. 
As  we  can't  keep  all,  we  spare  those  who  can  best 


34  Do   Yon  Believe  in  Luckf 

be  spared.  There  are  some  we  can't  afford  to  keep, 
and  some  we  can't  afford  to  let  go.'  He  said  he 
supposed  it  would  be  just  the  same  in  a  milliner's 
or  a  dressmaker's  establishment.  In  dull  times  the 
best  workers  would  be  surest  of  staying.  'You 
know  how  it  is  aboard  ship  in  a  gale ; '  said  he, '  the 
least  necessary  articles  are  thrown  over.'  People 
talk  about  luck.     I  don't  believe  in  it." 

Mr.  Johnson  remarked,  here,  that  lie  knew  two 
men  who  started  in  life  as  lawyers.  "  One  of  'em," 
said  he,  "  was  always  on  hand.  If  he  promised  to 
meet  a  man,  he  did  meet  him,  and  at  the  exact  time 
set;  and  when  he  had  a  case  in  court,  he  threw 
himself  into  it,  body  and  soul.  He  stands  A  num- 
ber one,  and  makes  money  hand  over  fist.  The 
other  one  could  never  be  depended  upon.  He 
pleased  himself,  let  who  would  be  waiting,  and  now 
—  he's  just  about  where  he  was  at  the  beginning ; 
but  'twould  take  pretty  sharp  eyesight  to  see  any 
luck  in  the  matter." 

"  Eunice  and  I  were  saying  the  other  day,"  said 
Allen,  "  that  whoever  has  a  good  article  finds  a 
market  for  it.  A  pedler  came  to  our  house  with 
extra  nice  butter.  We  had  butter  enough,  but 
bought  some  of  his  because  it  was  extra  nice.  The 
people  in  the  next  house  did  the  same,  and  for  the 


Do   You  Believe  in  Luck?  35 

same  reason.  Generally  speaking,  it  is  just  so  with 
other  things.  If  a  painter  has  a  first-rate  picture, 
he  can  sell  it.  If  a  writer  has  a  first-rate  poem  or 
essay  or  story,  some  publisher  will  want  it.  If  a 
carpenter  is  a  first-rate  workman,  he'll  find  work 
plenty.  If  a  professor  excels  in  mathematics  or 
chemistry  or  philosophy  or  any  other  science,  some 
college  will4ie  in  a  hurry  to  get  hold  of  him.  If  a 
man  has  business  talent,  and  good  judgment,  and 
a  reputation  for  uprightness,  mercantile  establish- 
ments will  overbid  each  other  to  secure  him.  If  a 
young  man  has  ability,  energy,  integrity,  activity, 
and  industry,  some  business  firm,  or  some  other 
master-workman,  will  pay  for  his  services." 

"  I  know  a  city  dressmaker,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"who  is  a  disagreeable^person  and  charges  mon- 
strous prices,  but  she  makes  splendid  fits,  and  gets 
a  good  deal  done,  and  so  everybody  wants  her. 
And  I  heard  of  a  cook,  once,  who  was  worth  her 
weight  in  gold.  Seventeen  families  were  trying  to 
get  her ! " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Eunice,  "  we  find  exceptions, 
rare  exceptions ;  there  are  backflaws,  and  there  are 
disappointments,  and  so  forth,  but,  as  a  general 
thing,  I  agree  with  Mr.  Johnson,  that  people  go  up 


36  Do   You  Believe  in  Luck  ? 

just  as  high  as  the  power  inside  of  them  will  cany 
them." 

"And  I  agree  with  you  and  Allen,"  said  Miss 
Hunt,  "that  a  good  article  is  sure  to  be  needed. 
It  may  be  a  button,  or  it  may  be  a  poem,  or  it 
may  be  skill,  or  it  may  be  character." 


V. 

i  cannot  dig. 

Friend  Solomon: 

Our  schoolteacher,  Miss  Hunt,  having  been 
asked  to  read  something  at  one  of  our  gatherings, 
brought  a  paper  of  which  I  enclose  a  copy.  Per- 
haps you  may  like  to  look  it  over. 

MISS  HUNT'S  PAPER. 

Dear  friends,  you  will  find  the  text  of  my 
discourse  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Luke,  third 
verse :  "  I  cannot  dig."  I  think  that  if  a  per- 
son can  say  with  truth,  "  I  cannot  dig,"  he 
settles  his  own  case  with  few  words.  In  pro- 
nouncing this  short  sentence  against  himself,  he 
fixes  his  position  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and 
shows  reason  why  he  will  always  remain  there. 
I  know  that  when  my  oldest  brother  was  in  the 
"  doldrums,"  —  that  is,  when  he  was  trying  to 
cljoo^e  an  occupation,  and  was  drifting  this  way 

37 


38  /  Cannot  Dig. 

and  that,  with  no  special  wind  to  blow  him  in  any 
special  direction,  —  Grandfather  Hunt  said  to  him : 
"  Josey,  my  boy,  it  doesn't  make  much  difference 
which  one  you  pitch  upon;  the  difference  is  in 
taking  hold.  You'll  never  get  on  in  any  kind  of 
business  without  you  put  dig  into  it."  Grand- 
father spoke  the  words  with  a  strong  emphasis,  and 
though  I  was  young  at  the  time,  they  impressed 
me.  Perhaps  you  will  pardon  an  allusion  to 
myself,  and  let  me  say  that  as  I  grew  older  I  felt 
an  earnest  desire  to  become  a  teacher.  My  father 
could  not  then  furnish  me  with  the  means  of  pre- 
paring myself.  Remembering  my  grandfather's 
words,  I  "  put  dig  into  it " ;  earned  enough  to  pay 
for  part  of  the  necessary  preparation,  and  then,  by 
putting  more  dig  into  it,  made  up  the  rest  by  home- 
study,  and  I  am  still  digging.  It  is  because  grand- 
father's advice  has  been  useful  to  me  all  my  life, 
that,  homely  as  it  is,  I  wished  to  repeat  it  here.  I 
have  taken  some  pains  to  find  out  the  truth  of  it. 
In  some  cases  of  great  success  I  had  opportunities 
of  looking  behind  the  cui'tain,  and  invariably  found 
there  hard  work,  and  plenty  of  it. 

One  case  was  that  of  a  man  who  moved  into  a 
large  town,  and  there  started  a  business  by  which 
he  accumulated  a  fortune.     An  inquiry  into  liis 


/  Cannot  Dig.  39 

case  showed  in  the  beginning  poverty,  family 
troubles,  struggles  with  competitors,  discourage- 
ments, and  blackflaws  of  various  kinds ;  but 
through  all  these  were  shown  industry,  persistency, 
faithfulness,  promptness,  altogether  making  what 
my  grandfather  would  have  called  "  dig." 

A  friend  of  mine,  with  a  high  reputation  for 
teaching  several  important  branches,  has  been 
recently  chosen  professor  in  a  flourishing  college. 
She  acquired  her  reputation  by  years  of  persistent, 
well-directed  effort,  and,  even  now,  "  digs  "  outside 
of  school-hours.  That  there  is  plenty  of  this  to  do 
within  those  hours,  every  faithful  teacher  will  bear 
witness.  Another  friend  of  mine  is  at  the  head  of 
a  prosperous  dressmaking  establishment.  Look 
back  a  few  years,  and  you  will  see  that  her  success 
is  the  result  of  hard  work  and  close  attention  to 
details.  As  was  said  the  other  night  of  Mrs. 
Bryant,  things  so  small  even  as  button-holes,  or 
the  stitches  in  a  seam,  might  have  hindered  that 
success.  And,  by  the  way,  Mrs.  Bryant  was  a  case 
in  which  may  be  seen  the  true  article,  the  genuine 
dig.  And  there  are  other  women  like  unto  her,  — 
"  bee "  women,  "  small  fruits  "  women,  literaiy 
women,  scientific  women,  farming  women,  flower- 
raising  women;    all  working  for  what  they  get. 


40  /  Cannot  Dig. 

I  am  acquainted  with  a  gentleman  who  writes 
remarkably  pleasing  short  shories ;  stories  which 
read  as  if  they  were  no  work  at  all,  but  were 
written  at  a  sitting  of  one  evening.  I  asked  him 
if  this  were  so.  He  laughed,  and  replied :  "  I 
shouldn't  like  to  have  it  told  of,  but  I  allow  about 
a  month  a  story.  That  '  no  work '  appearance 
which  you  speak  of  is  brought  about  by  work." 

A  preacher  who  would  interest  an  audience 
must  put  thought  —  that  is,  mental  labor  —  into 
his  sermons.  He  must  be  closely  observant  of 
human  affairs,  in  order  to  draw  from  them  moral 
lessons  for  his  hearers  ;  and  he  must  do  real  hard 
mind-work  in  order  to  present  those  lessons  in 
forcible  language.  Then  the  la^vyers.  Did  you 
ever  see  a  lawyer  poring  night  and  day  over 
pages  of  legal  lore,  searching,  combining,  arrang- 
ing, wearing  himself  out  physically,  and  using 
every  faculty  of  mind  to  make  a  forcible  argu- 
ment? For  his  client,  a  fortune,  or  even  a  life, 
may  hang  upon  this  man's  capacity  to  stand  hard 
work ;  for  himself,  liis  professional  reputation  and 
his  success  in  life. 

A  first-class  musical  performer  sweeps  her  hands 
across  the  keys,  and,  seemingly  without  an  effort, 
brings  forth  sounds  which  stir  your  soul  within 


/  Cannot  Dig.  41 

you.  This  wonderful  power  is  no  mystery  to 
those  who  know  that  for  years  she  has  spent  four, 
six,  eight,  and  even  more  hours  a  day  in  the 
drudgeiy  of  "practicing." 

Dickens  said  that  if  he  had  done  anything 
worthy  of  commendation  it  was  by  persevering 
labor.  Carlyle  defines  genius  as  "a  transcendent 
painstaking."  When  Mr.  Everett  was  compli- 
mented on  the  beauty,  weight,  conciseness,  and 
finish  of  a  sentence  in  one  of  his  orations,  he 
replied  that  the  sentence  spoken  of  cost  him  seven 
hours'  labor.  It  is  said  that  Buffon  rewrote  his 
voluminous  work  on  Natural  History  seventeen 
times  before  he  thought  it  fit  for  publication. 
When  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  asked  how  long  it 
took  him  to  paint  a  certain  picture,  he  said,  "  All 
my  life."  And,  if  we  had  time  to  speak  of  them, 
there  are  all  the  inventors  and  discoverers,  with 
their  separate  records  of  toil  and  discouragement 
and  persistency.  Indeed,  I  am  sure  that  if  we 
look  behind  any  case  of  remarkable  success  we 
shall  find  there  dig  of  the  hardest  kind.  We  can 
not  get  something  for  nothing. 

It  may  be  urged  that  there  are  cases  in  which 
something  is  got  for  nothing,  as,  for  instance, 
when  a  large  property  is  received  as  a  direct  gift. 


/  X^ajinot  Dig.  42 

Let  us  consider  this.  In  the  firet  place,  the  mere 
fact  that  a  man  receives,  say  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  does  not  make  that  man  a  success.  Suppose 
he  keeps  his  dollars  by  him  and  occupies  himself 
with  looking  at  them.  This  would  not  make  him  a 
success.  Neither  would  it  do  so  if  he  spent  them 
in  sensual  gratifications  and  tasteless  magnificence. 
The  moment  he  begins  to  use  his  money  worthily 
and  intelligently,  labor  begins.  For,  even  though 
he  crowd  his  mansion  with  pictures  and  other 
works  of  art;  with  books,  scholarly,  scientific, 
aesthetic ;  still  the  man  himself  will  not  be  a  suc- 
cess unless  the  man  himself  has  the  learning  and 
the  culture  to  appreciate  these,  and  learning  and 
culture  require  labor.  If  he  invest  his  money  in 
business,  that  certainly  demands  labor.  If  he 
would  dispose  of  it  in  charity  why,  this,  if  intelli- 
gently done,  involves  the  labor  of  inquiry  into 
social  problems,  of  searching  out  the  worthiest 
objects  of  that  charity,  and  of  the  watching  to 
see  if  it  works  satisfactorily.  To  be  sure  he  may 
hand  in  the  money  directly  to  some  benevolent 
institution,  but  in  this  case  there  would  be  no  rea- 
son for  calling  the  man  a  success,  as  he  would 
merely  have  had  another  person's  money  in  his 
keeping  for  a  short  time  —  like  a  contribution  box. 


/  Cannot  Dig.  43 

The  sons  and  daughters  of  wealthy  families  may- 
live  easy  lives,  but  not  one  of  those  lives  can  be 
considered  a  success  unless  by  it  is  accomplished 
something  of  value,  and  this  something  of  value 
cannot  be  accomplished  without  individual  effort. 

Yes,  it  must  come  always  to  this  at  last  —  indi- 
vidual effort.  One  person  cannot  make  another 
person's  success.  We  must  all  dig  for  ourselves, 
and  nobody  else  can  do  it  for  us,  and  those  who 
"cannot  dig"  will  be  failures.  Every  year  thou- 
sands of  young  persons  begin  the  study  of  music, 
of  drawing,  or  of  some  one  of  the  various  branches 
of  knowledge ;  every  year  thousands  of  young 
persons,  more  especially  young  men,  choose  some 
employment  with  which  to  start  themselves  in  life. 
Comparatively  few  of  this  youthful  host  meet  with 
any  marked  degree  of  success.  Yet  probably  not 
one  of  those  who  fail,  if  asked  the  reason  of  his  or 
her  non-success,  would  give  the  true  reason,  and 
say,  — 

"  It  was  because  I  cannot  dig." 

It  seems  to  me,  that,  as  I  suggested  at  the  begin- 
ning, the  individuals  of  whom  this  confession  is 
true,  whether  workers  of  high  or  of  low  degree ; 
business  characters,  day  laborers,  artists,  writers, 
scholars,  housekeepers,  seamstresses  —  no    matter 


44  I  Cannot  Dig. 

what  —  may  one  and  all  resign  themselves  to  me- 
diocrity, if  not  to  utter  failure.  For  it  is  just  as 
my  grandfather  said,  "You'll  never  get  on  in 
any  kind  of  business  without  you  put  dig  into 
it." 


VI. 


AtnSTT  SYLVIE  S   LETTER. 


Friekd  S.  : 

"We  turned  one  of  our  gatherings  into  a  dona- 
tion party  for  Aunt  Sylvie  Peckham.  Her  two 
rooms  were  crowded  with  people,  young  and  old, 
and  all  of  these  people  were  in  that  happy  state  of 
good  humor  which,  as  Eunice  Hartman  remarked, 
always  seems  to  come  from  the  making  over  of 
one's  belongings  to  a  person  in  need  of  them.  It 
was  a  truly  interesting  occasion.  Everybody  said 
funny  things,  everybody  laugh^,  and  everybody 
almost  cried  to  see  Aunt  Sylvie  so  much  overcome 
by  her  emotion.  The  poor  old  woman  has  rheu- 
matism in  her  hands,  and  could  scarcely  wipe  the 
tears  from  her  eyes.  Jed  unpacked  the  things. 
He  reached,  with  his  long  arms,  into  this  comer, 
and  that  corner,  bringing  up  packages,  baskets, 
jugs,  —  always  getting  off  some  kind  of  joke,  so 

45 


46  Aunt  Sylvies  Letter. 

as  to  make  Aunt  Sylvie  laugh\  Time  was  when 
the  Widow  Peckham  could  herself  assist  the  poor, 
for  her  husband,  in  liis  prime,  was  one  of  the  fore- 
most men  in  the  town  where  they  then  lived.  But 
that  was  a  great  many  years  ago. 

The  donation  party  was  the  means  of  our  getting 
a  lette^to  read  at  our  next  gathering.  Aunt  Sylvie, 
in  talking  with  Aunt  Nabby  Pryor  about  the  kind- 
ness of  the  neighbors,  expressed  her  heartfelt 
gratitude,  and  likewise  her  regret  that  there  was 
nothing  she  could  do  in  return. 

Now  a  day  or  two  previous  Aunt  Sylvie,  with 
Aunt  Nabby 's  help  as  scribe,  had  nearly  finished  a 
long  letter  to  her  grand-nephew  Samuel,  named  for 
her  husband.  When  she  was  speaking  of  her 
regret  at  being  unable  to  do  anything  for  the 
neighbors.  Aunt  Nabby  said  to  her : 

"  Do  let  me  read  this  letter,  or  a  part  of  it,  at 
one  of  our  sociable  meetings.  'Tis  a  beautiful 
letter,  and  'twill  be  very  edifying  for  our  young 
folks  to  hear." 

The  matrimonial  advice  contained  in  the  letter 
occasioned  a  lively  discussion.  Aunt  Sylvie,  when 
told  of  this,  seemed  quite  pleased  to  think  she 
had  furnished  us  with  the  means  of  an  evening's 
entertainment. 


Aunt  Sylvie  s  Letter.  47 

A  POUTION  OF  AUNT  SYLVIE'S  LETTER. 
.  .  .  Every  time  I  try  to  write  a  letter,  I 
tliink  to  myself,  "  Maybe  this  will  be  the  last  letter 
I  shall  ever  ^vrite  to  him."  And  then  I  think,  "  If 
it  should  be,  what  can  I  say  to  Samuel,  as  my  last 
words?"  For  it  is  possible  that  we  two  shall 
never  meet  again  in  this  world.  I  am  just  ready 
to  lay  off  this  earthly  body,  and  now,  when  I  look 
back  tlirough  so  many  years,  there  are  only  two 
things  that  seem  of  much  account,  Truth  and 
Affection.  It  does  not  seem  any  matter  to  me, 
now  that  my  husband,  your  Uncle  Samuel  —  you 
never  saw  your  Uncle  Samuel ;  he  died  before  you 
can  remember.  He  was  a  beautiful  man  —  one  of 
God's  good  men ;  he  did  not  live  to  be  very  old. 
You  could  not  understand,  if  I  should  tell  you, 
how  much  I  have  missed  him  since  he  died,  for  it 
has  seemed  as  if  only  just  a  part  of  me  kept  on 
staying  here,  he  was  such  a  man  to  lean  upon ; 
and  I  did  not  feel  like  anybody,  myself  —  I  was 
going  to  say  that  it  does  not  seem  any  matter  to 
me  now  —  though  it  was  a  blow  at  the  time  — 
that  your  uncle  lost  so  much  by  signing  for  Nathan 
Alden  and  Mr.  Armstrong,  or  that  some  folks  used 
to  try  to  run  him  down.  It  was  only  because  he 
was  strict  in  his  dealings,  and  upright,  and  would 


48  Aunt  Sylvies  Letter. 

not  swerve,  or  connive ;  but  it  fretted  me,  then. 
And  it  worried  me  very  much  that  all  through  his 
last  years  he  would  not  afford  himself  a  new 
broadcloth  coat,  though  he  stood  in  need  of  it 
greatly.  "  One  more  brush,  Sylvie,"  he  would  say, 
in  his  pleasant  tone.  And  I  sponged  it  in  log- 
wood tea,  and  brushed  it  till  it  was  very  nigh 
threadbare. 

You  see  that  I  am  not  fit  to  write  a  letter,  my 
mind  wanders  so ;  and  I  have  not  said  what  I 
meant  to.  I  started  to  say  that  all  these  matters  I 
have  been  mentioning  seem  trifling  now.  They  all 
fall  away,  and  leave  nothing  but  his  loving  kind- 
ness standing  clear  and  bright.  If  he  had  been  a 
cheat,  should  I  be  longing  so  to  meet  him  soon  ? 
Or  if  he  had  been  cold  and  hard  ?  But  he  was  very 
tender-hearted ;  and,  O,  Samuel !  believe  an  old 
woman,  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  of  so 
much  value  as  Truth  and  Affection. 

And  when  I  think  of  what  a  blessed  companion 
he  was  to  me,  the  reflection  comes  into  my  mind 
that,  in  the  course  of  nature,  you  will  soon  think  of 
choosing  a  companion.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  choose 
a  companion,  meaning  to  pass  your  whole  life 
with  her.  Don't  choose  for  good  looks  altogether, 
Samuel,   though  I  can't  blame   you  if  you  don't 


Aunt  Sylvie  s  Letter,  49 

feel  like  taking  up  with  a  very  homely  girl.  Still, 
a  homely  girl  is  more  likely  to  be  humble-minded, 
and  a  handsome  one  is  more  likely  to  be  proud  and 
high'^trung,  and  think  too  much  of  vain  show  and 
adornments.  When  anybody  has  to  live  with  any- 
body day  after  day,  year  in  and  year  out,  temper  is 
more  to  be  thought  of  than  good  looks.  See  first 
how  a  girl  behaves  at  home. 

"  And  pray  be  shy  of  a  dressy  girl,  for  if  she 
spends  her  thoughts  and  her  time  mostly  on  dress, 
she  won't  have  many  thoughts  nor  much  time  to 
spend  on  you,  or  on  higher  subjects.  Still,  I 
shouldn't  want  you  to  marry  a  dowdy,  for  then 
she  wouldn't  keep  her  family  looking  fit  to  be  seen. 
A  neat,  orderly,  care-taking  person  is  a  great  benefit 
to  a  family  ;  but  I  should  not  want  one  of  the  kind 
that  are  too  strict,  and  that  make  a  man  take  off  his 
shoes  on  the  doorstep,  and  go  in  in  his  stocking 
feet,  for  they  make  you  uncomfortable.  There's  a 
difference  between  staring  and  stark  blind. 

And  pray  don't  demean  yourself  to  marry  % 
girl  for  her  money.  That  would  put  you  where 
you  would  always  feel  beholden  to  your  wife  ; 
though  it  is  not  a  thing  impossible  that  a  rich  girl 
might  have  an  affection  for  a  poor  young  man. 
And  that  would  alter  the  case,  for  money,  or  the 


50  Aiuit  Sylvies  Letter. 

lack  of  money,  should  not  stand  in  the  way  of  true 
affection  ;  and  I  don't  say  but  that  in  such  case  it 
would  be  a  convenience  for  a  young  man  to  have 
some  capital  to  start  with,  —  if  he  did  not  get 
married  to  the  girl  on  purpose  to  get  it,  —  and  she 
might  possibly  think  so  much  of  him  that  her  riches 
would  seem  but  as  an  empty  bubble  when  set  against 
his  affection.  In  such  a  case,  you  would  have  to 
use  your  judgment.  I  think  that  in  no  case  a 
young  woman  should  consider  herself  as  being 
ready  to  be  married  until  she  has  a  reasonable 
quantity  of  cotton  cloth  made  up,  and  plenty  of 
bedquilts. 

As  to  learning,  I  don't  exactly  know  how  to  advise 
you.  A  man  does  not  like  to  feel  that  his  wife  knows 
the  most;  and  if  it  happens  that  she  does  know 
the  most,  she  ought  to  know  enough  to  keep  it  to 
herself ;  for  a  man  never  likes  to  look  up  to  a 
woman,  neither  does  he  want  her  too  ignorant  to 
be  any  company  for  him,  and  to  be  a  good  manager. 
I  think  you  will  have  to  use  your  judgment  in  this 
case,  too.  I  suppose  there  is  such  a  thing  as  hitting 
just  right,  but  old  'Squire  Spinner  used  to  say't 
was  hard  to  find  a  woman  that  knew  just  enough, 
and  not  too  much.  You  see,  a  woman  has  to  be 
considerable  knowing  to  make  her  husband  com- 


Aunt  Sy Ivies  Letter.  51 

fortable,  but  when  she's  too  knowing  she's  apt 
to  make  liim  uncomfortable,  without  she's  pretty 
shrewd  and  sensible.  I  think  you  will  be  the  most 
likely  to  take  comfort  with  that  kind  of  a  wife  who 
will  give  way  to  her  husband  when  they  two  are 
contrary  minded. 

'Tis  a  great  thing  to  have  a  wife  that  knows 
how  to  be  saving.  'Tis  no  use  for  the  man  to 
grub  and  scrub  along,  if  the  woman  wastes  as  fast 
as  he  earns.  You  need  a  wife  that  will  mend  a 
hole  when  it  first  comes,  and  not  wait  till  it's  too 
big  to ;  and  that  knows  how  to  use  up  odds  and 
ends,  and  will  stay  in  the  house  and  attend  to  her 
work. 

So  you  see  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference 
what  kind  of  a  companion  a  man  chooses,  for  she 
will  have  a  great  effect  upon  him  for  better  or  for 
worse.  If  you  can  find  one  that  is  good-disposi- 
tioned,  and  sensible,  and  moderately  good-looking, 
and  not  too  set,  and  who  has  enough,  say,  to  get  a 
few  things  together  to  go  to  housekeeping  with, 
why,  there's  considerable  chance  of  your  taking  com- 
fort together.  Her  religious  views  must  be  thought 
of ;  though,  as  a  general  thing,  a  wife  leaves  her 
own  meeting,  and  goes  with  her  husband. 

But,  after  all,  love  will  go  where  'lis  sent ;   and 


52  Aunt  Sylvie  s  Letter. 

if  it  should  happen  in  your  case  to  be  sent  to  the 
wrong  one,  and  your  wife  turns  out  a  thorn  in 
your  side,  why,  get  along  with  it  as  well  as  you 
can,  for  it  may  be  that  you  need  a  trial  to  your 
patience.  And,  above  all  things,  make  your  own 
self  what  you  ought  to  be,  and  don't  hurt  her  feel- 
ings. 

And  one  thing  more.  It  is  the  crudest  thing 
in  the  world  for  a  young  man  to  keep  company 
with  a  girl  till  she  likes  him  too  well  ever  to  hke 
another,  and  then  leave  her.  I've  seen  girls  sicken 
and  die  in  such  cases.  Remember  this,  and  don't 
forget  it.     .     .     . 

In  my  next  I  will  write  you  about  the  discussion 
which  was  called  up  by  some  things  in  this  letter. 


vn. 

is  it  any  damage  to  a  girl 
to  be  peetty?  —  a  letter  from  mary  alfn. 

My  dear  Euxice: 

Allen  says  he  wrote  you  tlie  heads  of  Aunt 
Sylvie's  letter,  but,  writing  in  a  hurry,  could  not 
give  the  conversation.  I  was  sorry  you  had  to  go 
away.  However,  shopping  and  visiting  are  both 
among  the  necessaries  of  life,  taking  life  in  a  broad 
sense. 

In  the  letter  Aunt  Sylvie  warned  Samuel  against 
marrying  a  pretty  girl.  One  of  the  company 
raised  the  question,  — 

"  Is  it  a  damage  to  a  girl,  her  being  pretty  ?  " 

Afterwards  the  question  was  changed  to,  — 

"  Must  it  be  a  damage  to  a  girl  to  be  pretty  ?  " 

One  answer  was,  — 

"  No ;  not  if  she  has  common  sense." 

Then  Allen  asked,  — 

"  What  is  it  to  have  common  sense  ?  " 
53 


54     /•$■  it  ajiy  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty? 

Everybody  seemed  ready  to  answer,  but  nobody 
seemed  to  know  just  what  to  say.  At  last  Jed 
spoke  up  and  said,  — 

"  I  know  what  it  is  not  to  have  common  sense." 

This  turned  the  laugh  on  Jed,  and  the  young 
fellow  next  him  asked  him  if  he  knew  by  experience. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jed ;  "  from  other  folks'  experience ! 
Not  to  have  common  sense  is  to  be  lobsided." 

"  That  is,"  said  Allen,  "  too  much  of  the  weight 
is  on  one  side.  I  think  you  are  right.  If  a  team- 
ster should  place  his  load  so  that  the  weight  came 
mostly  on  one  side,  you'd  say  he  lacked  common 
sense.  If  a  minister  should  preach  the  same  idea 
every  Sunday,  and  no  other  one,  you'd  say  he 
lacked  common  sense.  If  Mr.  Johnson,  depending 
on  his  farm  for  his  vegetables,  should  plant  it  all 
over  with  peas,  you'd  say  he  lacked  common  sense. 
If  Mrs.  Johnson,  with  ironing  to  do,  and  three  or 
four  hungry  men  coming  to  dinner,  should  iron 
till  the  hungry  men  came  in  sight,  you'd  say  she 
lacked  common  sense.  If  a  person  having  only 
twenty-five  dollars  in  the  world,  should  spend 
twenty  for  a  ring,  you'd  say  he  lacked  common 
sense." 

"  But  how  does  all  this  apply  to  the  pretty  girl  ?  " 
some  one  asked. 


Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty  f     55 

"  In  tliis  way,"  said  Allen.  "  When  a  girl  con- 
siders her  pretty  face  of  such  importance  that  she 
allows  her  thoughts  to  dwell  continually  on  that, 
and  finds  her  highest  gratification  in  making  that 
attractive,  and  expects  to  please  chiefly  by  that, 
and  seems  never  to  think  of  improving  her  mind, 
or  that  she  has  a  work  to  do  in  the  world,  why, 
then  we  nmy  say  she  lacks  common  sense.  The 
weight  of  her  load  comes  mostly  on  one  side,  and 
that  the  weakened  side.  In  all  these  cases  we  see 
what  Jed  calls  lobsidedness.  A  person  of  common 
sense  keeps  himself  and  his  affairs  well-balanced." 

"  And  looks  ahead  to  see  how  he  is  coming  out," 
said  Sister  'Cindy.  "  Just  try  my  definition,"  she 
continued,  "  on  your  example.  The  teamster  would 
need  to  look  ahead  and  see  how  far  his  load  would 
be  likely  to  go  without  capsizing.  The  minister 
would  need  to  look  ahead,  and  see  if  his  hearers 
would  continue  to  hear  him.  Mr.  Johnson  would 
need  to  look  ahead,  and  see  if  his  family  were 
going  to  live  on  peas  all  winter.  Mrs.  Johnson 
would  need  to  look  ahead,  and  see  if  her  hungry 
men  would  be  satisfied  to  sit  down  to  an  ironing- 
table.  The  man  with  the  ring  would  need  to  look 
ahead  to  see  where  his  board  and  clothes  were 
coming  from.     The  pretty  girl  must  look  ahead, 


56     Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty  ? 

and  see  that  her  life  will  be  a  failure  if  she  takes 
no  pains  to  cultivate  her  mind,  and  does  no  earnest 
work  in  the  world." 

Much  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  and  we  all 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  pretty  girl  might 
have  common  sense,  and  that  it  need  not  be  a 
damage  to  a  girl,  her  being  pretty. 

"  But,  as  a  general  thing,"  said  Miss  Luce,  "  a 
homely  girl  stands  a  better  chance  of  being  sensi- 
ble than  one  of  the  other  kind ;  for  she  naturally 
says  to  herself  that,  if  she  can't  look  well,  she  can 
do  well,  and  study  well,  and  make  the  most  of  her- 
self in  such  ways." 

Mrs.  Johnson  remarked  that  homely  girls  were 
likely  to  think  all  the  more  of  good  looks,  for  the 
very  reason  that  they  could  not  be  good-looking 
themselves.  "  Besides,"  said  she,  "  they  are  very 
often  envious  of  the  pretty  ones ;  and  envy  is  as 
bad  as  vanity." 

"  And  it  is  said,"  added  Mr.  Johnson,  "  that  a. 
homely  girl  spites  the  pretty  ones,  and  feels  re- 
joiced when  they  begin  to  '  fade.' " 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ! "  cried  Sister 
'Cindy.  "'Tis  a  libel  on  homely  women  to  say 
they  do  not  take  pleasure  in  looking  at  a  hand- 
some face." 


Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty?     57 

Jed  proposed  that,  to  decide  the  matter,  all  the 
pretty  girls  in  the  room  should  stand  up,  and  tell 
their  feelings,  and  then  let  the  homely  ones  do  the 
same. 

Mr.  Parson  Chandler  said  he  was  afraid  that 
every  girl  would  stand  up  the  first  time. 

"  Why  not  try  the  experiment  with  the  young 
men?"  suggested  Miss  Luce.  "I've  seen  a  good 
deal  of  human  nature,  feminine  and  masculine; 
and  it  is  my  belief  that  you  find  pride  in  personal 
appearance  on  both  sides." 

Then  the  question  was  started,  — 

"Is  it  not  right  to  have  a  regard  for  personal 
appearance,  and  for  such  outward  matters  as  dress, 
manners,  language?" 

Mrs.  Parson  Chandler  said  she  considered  these 
but  trifling  matters.  She  thought  we  ought  to 
make  sure  that  the  heart  is  right,  and  not  pay 
much  attention  to  looks.  Life  is  short.  On  our 
death-beds  we  should  not  be  thinking  about  our 
looks.  This  world  was  only  a  preparation  for 
another. 

Mrs.  Johnson  said  there  was  a  time  for  all 
things.  It  was  our  duty  to  occupy  our  minds 
with  very  many  subjects  which  would  not  interest 
us  on  our  death-beds.     She  was  not  sure  that  this 


58     Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty? 

life  was  only  a  preparation  for  another.  The 
greater  part  of  Christ's  teachings  had  reference  to 
this  world  and  this  present  life.  "  Love  one  an- 
other." "  Do  good,  hoping  for  nothing  again." 
"  Love  your  enemies."  "  Forgive  unto  seventy 
times  seven."  And  the  song  of  the  angels  at  His 
birth  was  "  Peace  on  earth.  Good  will  among 
men." 

Allen  thought  we  ought  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  things  of  this  world  and  this  life  for  their  own 
sakes,  especially  things  in  nature.  The  blue  sky, 
the  green  fields,  flowers,  sunsets,  running  waters, 
—  all  these  call  up  within  us  feelings  of  pleasure. 
They  are  fitted  to  us,  and  we  to  them,  by  our  and 
their  Creator. 

"  Then  there  is  music,"  said  he.  "  We  are  so 
made  that  we  cannot  help  enjoying  music ;  and  we 
may  almost  say  that  the  whole  human  race  is  so 
made  as  to  enjoy  moving  to  the  sound  of  music. 
Nearly  all  the  nations  and  tribes  we  ever  heard  of 
have  had  their  dances  and  their  marches.  I  think 
it  is  right  to  take  pleasure  in  these  things,  and  in 
all  other  as  harmless  amusements.  I  consider 
amusements  as  among  the  necessaries  of  life, — 
that  is,  of  a  satisfactory,  rounded-out  life.  With- 
out them  we  grow  cold  and  hard." 


Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty  f     59 

"And  as  for  our  outward  appearance,"  said  Sis- 
ter 'Cindy,  "  I  think  we  ought  to  look  as  well  as 
ever  we  can;  and  by  *we'  I  mean  everybody. 
Why,  Nature  herself  gives  us  the  hint.  She  tries 
to  look  well.  She  comes  out  in  pretty  colors,  and 
dresses  herself  with  flowers.  Even  her  mud- 
puddles  have  handsome  pictures  in  them.  Think 
of  an  apple-tree  in  bloom!  Think  of  a  rosebush 
of  roses !  You'U  find  some  pains  taken  with  looks 
there!" 

Miss  Hitty  Hosmer,  an  outof-town  cousin  of 
Miss  Luce's,  remarked  that  it  was  not  given  to 
human  beings  to  be  as  simple  and  unconscious  as 
a  rosebush. 

"  But  it  is  given  them  to  be  sensible  —  if  they 
will  be,"  said  Miss  Luce. 

"  In  these  matters,"  said  Allen,  "  we  shall  have 
to  follow  Aunt  Sylvie's  advice  to  Samuel,  and  use 
our  judgment  in  deciding  how  much  attention  to 
give  to  the  inward  and  how  much  to  the  outward 
adornment.  We  must  keep  up  the  balance,  and 
not  become  lobsided,  you  know." 

"  And  we  must  use  our  consciences,"  said  Sister 
'Cindy.  "You  know  we  agreed  that  religion 
should  be  carried  into  the  smallest  details  of  life. 
I   believe   there 's   a  right  and  wrong    in    these 


6o     Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty  ? 

matters  we've  been  speaking  of,  just  as  much  as 
there  is  in  praying  and  not  praying;  in  going  to 
meeting  and  not  going  to  meeting.  It  is  right  to 
pray;  but  it  would  be  wrong  to  spend  the  most 
of  our  time  in  making  prayers.  And  a  person 
may  sin  as  much  in  going  to  meeting  as  a  vain 
girl  would  in  curling  her  hair,  or  even  in  painting 
her  face." 

Some  one  asked,  — 

"  How  can  anybody  sin  in  going  to  meeting  ?  " 

"Why,  it  is  generally  understood,"  said  Allen, 
"  that  we  go  to  meeting  Sundays  for  our  spiritual 
good.  Now,  when  people  go  because  it  is  respect- 
able to  do  so,  or  in  order  to  stand  better  in  their 
business  relations,  or  to  see,  and  be  seen,  or 
because  they  will  be  talked  about  if  they  stay  at 
home,  —  then  they  are  hypocrites ;  and  hypocrisy 
is  as  bad  as  vanity,  and  as  bad  in  one  place  as 
another." 

I  have  given  you  only  a  small  part  of  the  con- 
versation, but  the  untold  shall  be  told  you  on  your 
return.  You  know  how  it  has  been  with  us  here. 
You  know  that  ever  since  we  first  discussed  Wick- 
liffe's  preachings  there  has  been  much  talk  —  both 
at  our  gatherings,  and  elsewhere  —  concerning  his 
idea  of  the  religion  of  a  good  life  as  being  far  ex- 


Is  it  any  Damage  to  a  Girl  to  be  Pretty?     6i 

alted  above  a  religion  of  belief  and  observances. 
There  seems  to  be  a  general  waking  up  to  this 
idea,  —  a  sort  of  revival  of  goodness,  so  to  speak. 
We  feel,  more  strongly  than  ever  before,  that  the 
religion  which  does  not  influence  our  daily  lives  is 
no  true  religion. 

Mr.  Johnson  thinks,  and  so  do  I,  that  the  effect 
of  this  waking  up  can  be  plainly  seen.  It  can  be 
seen  in  the  changed  manner  with  which  we  listen 
to  words  spoken  against  our  neighbors ;  in  a  more 
earnest  sympathy  with  those  who  are  in  trouble ; 
in  our  readiness  to  help  the  helpless ;  in  a  more 
abundant  charity  toward  one  another's  faults; 
more  patience  with  weaknesses ;  greater  forbear- 
ance where  opinions  differ.  It  cannot  be  all  our 
own  fancy  that  there  is  an  increased  willingness  in 
certain  miserly  characters  to  part  with  money  for 
a  worthy  cause  ;  a  stricter  honesty  in  certain  quar- 
ters, where  honesty  had  been  lacking ;  also,  more 
appreciation  in  families  of  the  labors  and  anxieties 
of  the  different  members,  and  more  good  humor 
one  toward  another,  even  the  tone  of  voice  with 
which  mothers  reprove  their  cliildren,  has,  we  think, 
a  gentler  sound. 

'Cindy  calls,  and  I  end  abruptly. 


vin. 

COMPAlfY   COMING.  —  A  LETTER   READ   AT   ONE   OF 
THE  BYBURY  GATHERINGS. 

My  DEAR  Niece  Becky: 

What  would  you  say  if  I  were  to  write  that  I 
accept  your  invitation,  and  am  coming  by  and  by  to 
pass  some  few  days  with  you  ?  Alas !  my  prophetic 
soul  —  assisted  by  my  past  experience  —  tells  me 
that  you  will  say,  for  one  thing,  "  Now  we  will 
have  to  get  ready  for  company."  Let  me  beg, 
entreat,  implore,  that  you  will  not  get  ready  for 
me.  I  know  too  well  what  this  process  means. 
It  means  pillow-shams,  and  furniture  set  back.  It 
means  richness  in  cooking.  It  means  fatigue  on 
your  part,  and,  also,  loss  of  your  society  on  mine ; 
for  this  "  getting  ready  "  usually  contmues  so  long 
as  the  company  continues. 

Shall  not  company  have  a  voice  in  what  so  fear- 
fully concerns  it  ?  Is  the  well-being  of  visitors  to 
be  forever  sacrificed  to  the  false  pride  and  vanity 

62 


Company  Coining.  63 

of  the  visited  ?  For  these  motives  are  at  the  bottom 
of  the  matter.  They  are  not  always  the  only  ones  ; 
we  must  make  some  allowance  for  hospitality,  and 
a  desire  to  please.  But  false  pride,  vanity,  and  am- 
bition to  be  thought  to  set  a  good  table,  are  among 
the  actuating  motives.  It  often  happens  that  the 
women  of  a  family  have  each  a  reputation  as  cook. 
"  Mother  "  is  a  champion  pie-maker ;  Nancy  never 
fails  in  having  good  cake ;  Ella's  blanc-mange,  or 
Charlotte  Russe,  or  floating  island,  unequaled.  At 
the  approach  of  company,  each  of  these  feels  called 
upon  to  sustain  her  reputation  at  almost  any  sacrifice 
of  time  and  convenience.  Nancy  shuts  her  piano, 
or  her  book,  EUa  drops  her  sewing,  "  mother  "  hus- 
tles her  mending  into  some  out-of-the-way  nook, 
and  forthwith  the  three  roll  up  their  sleeves,  don 
their  kitchen  aprons,  collect  their  sugar,  flour,  lard, 
raisins,  currants,  citron,  spices,  etc.,  and  proceed  to 
do  their  best ;  that  is  to  say,  their  worst.  "  How 
much  butter  for  this  ? "  "  Half  a  pound ;  put 
in  more  for  company."  "  How  much  sugar  ? " 
"  Three  cupf uls ;  heap  the  cups  for  company." 
"  How  much  citron  ?  "  "A  pretty  large  piece  for 
company."  "  How  many  raisins  ?  "  "  There  can't 
be  too  many  for  company."  "  How  much  shorten- 
ing ? "     "  You  must  make  a  rich  crust  for  com- 


64  Company  Coming. 

pany."  In  sOme  cases,  even  common  white  bread 
—  to  say  nothing  of  biscuits  —  must  be  shoi*tened 
and  extra-shortened  for  company. 

I  will  tell  you  sometliing  wliich  once  happened 
to  me.  Certain  business  duties  having  detained 
me  until  nearly  evening  in  a  neighborhood  at  some 
distance  from  home,  I  decided  to  accept  an  oft- 
given  invitation  to  drop  in  at  any  time,  and  take 
my  tea  with  an  acquaintance  who  resided  in  that 
locality.  The  family  were  out,  on  my  arrival,  and, 
owing  to  a  mistake  on  my  pai't,  I  passed  through 
the  dining-room,  in  going  to  the  parlor.  The  table 
was  neatly  laid  for  tea,  and  I  could  not  help  seeing 
upon  that  table  a  dish  of  baked  apples,  a  plate  of 
plain-looking  gingerbread,  some  sliced  meat,  and 
the  greater  part  of  a  large  white  loaf.  Perhaps 
these  drew  my  attention  more  strongly  from  the 
fact  that  I  was  desperately  hungry. 

The  family  very  soon  arrived,  welcomed  me 
cordially,  and  the  feminine  portion  of  it  left  the 
room  to  "  see  about  tea,"  as  they  said.  *'  Luckily, 
that  cannot  take  long,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "  for  tea 
is  about  ready."  But  the  meal  was  delayed  nearly 
an  hour.  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host-ess. 
Being  summoned  by  that  individual  to  the  table, 
I  found  she  had  changed  all  that.     The  cloth  had 


Company  Coming.  65 

been  replaced  by  one  which  stood  up  in  ridges.  As 
to  the  table  paraphernalia,  I  could  not  particularize ; 
but  I  saw  that,  instead  of  the  former  neat  simplicity, 
there  was  now  a  gloss,  a  glare,  a  glitter,  and  a 
gilt-edgedness,  the  effect  of  which  was  to  put 
buckram  into  my  manners,  and  almost  into  my 
heart. 

But  the  worst  part  is  yet  to  be  told.  The  baked 
apples,  the  substantial  loaf,  the  gingerbread,  the 
sliced  meat,  had  been  removed,  and  in  their  places 
were  preserves,  hot  biscuits,  fruit  cake,  and  jelly 
cake,  and  fried  oysters. 

I  must  not  omit  to  state  that  on  a  plate  were  a 
few  thin  slices  from  the  loaf.  But  four  times  as 
many  slices  would  scarcely  have  sufficed  for  the 
just>-named  purpose ;  and  to  eat  the  whole,  even 
of  those,  would  have  been  impolite.  To  eat  the 
whole,  and  then  call  for  three  successive  plates 
full,  would  have  been  —  well,  there  is  no  term  by 
which  conduct  of  that  kind  can  be  described.  I 
longed  inexpressibly  —  yes,  inexpressibly  is  the 
exact  word  —  for  the  baked  apples,  the  cold  meat, 
and  the  whole  of  the  loaf. 

It  is  a  homely  saying  among  country  folks,  visit- 
ing, "  Don't  put  yourself  out  on  my  account."  My 
dear  niece  and  namesake,  if  putting  youreelf  out 


66  Company  Coining. 

implies  the  proceedings  I  have  been  speaking  of, 
do,  please,  stay  in. 

But  on  one  thing  I  greatly  depend,  and  I  mention 
it  with  fear  and  trembling,  knowing  almost  to 
a  dead  certainty,  that  it  will  put  you  out  to  gratify 
me.  I  beg  for  that  joy  and  comfort  and  necessity 
of  life  which  most  housekeepers  are  eager  to  ex- 
clude from  their  dwellings ;  namely,  sunlight.  Do 
not,  I  pray  you,  dear  niece  and  namesake,  shut  me 
up  in  a  darkened  room  !  Carpets  ?  Yes,  I  know ; 
but  I  will  lay  down  protecting  coverings,  I  wiU 
shift  these  protecting  coverings,  I  will  take  almost 
any  trouble  to  prevent  damage,  if  you  will  only 
grant  me  sunlight.  But,  alas  !  I  fear  that  damage 
to  carpets  is  not  the  only  consideration  which  will 
be  brought  to  bear  against  my  petition.  The  matter 
of  gentility  will  come  in.  To  look  genteel,  a  house 
should  present  a  half-shut-up  appearance.  I  know 
whereof  I  affirm.  At  your  Cousin  Mary's  my 
chamber  carpeting  was  straw  matting,  and  on  the 
strength  of  its  unfadingness  I  flung  open  the  blinds, 
rolled  up  both  curtains  to  within  one  pane  of  the 
top,  and  let  in  whole  floods  of  sunshine.  One  day 
Mary  said  to  me,  "  Aunt  Rebecca,  if  it  is  just  as 
agreeable  to  you,  I  wish  you  would  lower  your 
curtains  a  little,  and  keep  half  of  one  blind  shut ; 


Company  Coming.  67 

it  looks  so,  when   anybody  is  passing  by,  to  see 
everything  stretched  open." 

A  belief  in  the  gentility  of  gloom  is  abroad  in 
the  community,  or  rather  it  is  at  home  in  the  com- 
munity. We  find  it  everywhere.  I  have  often 
noticed  the  complacent,  satisfied  air  with  which 
the  country  housekeeper,  after  tidying  up  her  rooms, 
goes  from  window  to  window,  closing  the  blinds, 
or  dropping  the  paper  shades.  The  city  house- 
keeper has  the  advantage  of  her  country  sister,  her 
house  being  usually  located  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
have  windows  only  on  two  of  its  sides.  She  also 
has  at  her  command  heavy  and  abundant  material, 
and  with  her  three  thicknesses  of  curtains  can  have 
the  satisfaction  of  so  darkening  her  parlors  that 
across  the  room  she  can  scarcely  distinguish  the 
features  of  her  dearest  friend. 

The  same  worship  of  the  dim  prevails  in  many 
of  our  fashionable  churches.  There  has  been  much 
eloquence  consumed  in  praising  that  line  of  Script- 
ure :  "  Let  there  be  light ! "  But  the  very  clergy- 
man who  reads  these  words  of  a  bright  Sunday 
morning  may  do  so  with  his  head  inclined  to  a  gas 
fixture.  It  is  the  common  belief,  I  think,  that 
light  was  produced  by  a  distinct  act  of  creation  as 
a  special   and  unspeakable   blessing  to   mankind. 


68  Company  Coming. 

But  the  civilized  portion  of  mankind,  as  a  general 
thing,  seem  to  prefer  being  genteel  to  being  blest. 
We  see  that  plants  and  animals  cannot  thrive  with- 
out sunlight ;  we  know  that  in  tliis  respect  the  same 
law  which  governs  them  governs  us,  but — shall 
we  not  have  the  house  look  well  to  passers-by? 
Shall  they  see  the  blinds  open  and  this  blessing 
which  is  to  make  us  thrive  pouring  in  upon  us  ? 
I  wonder  how  Arctic  explorers  feel-  about  the  mat- 
ter? I  wonder  if  they  do  the  correct  thing,  and 
when  the  sunlight  streams  forth  upon  them  after  a 
winter  of  darkness,  screen  their  hatchway  and  cabin 
windows  and  so  contrive  to  bring  about  this  genteel 
gloom  ? 

In  our  towns  and  cities  are  many  houses  the 
chief  apartments  of  which  are  kept  shrouded  in  an 
almost  Arctic  obscurity.  The  fact  that  the  air 
inside  those  houses  needs  what  the  sun's  rays  alone 
can  give  it,  is  ignored  entirely,  even  by  women, 
who  are  obliged  to  live  mostly  within  doors.  Not 
many,  even  of  the  most  intelligent  among  them 
make  a  point  of  letting  in  this  needful  sunlight. 
The  average  housekeeper  drops  the  curtains  on 
leaving  a  room,  and  shades  the  windows  of  her 
sleeping  chamber.  "  But,"  you  will  say,  "  this  cur- 
tain dropping  is  not  a  matter  of  gentility  alone,  it 


Company  Coming.  69 

is  a  matter  of  economy.  We  cannot  afford  to  let 
the  sun  fade  our  carpets."  This  makes  a  very 
simple  thing  of  it.  The  question  becomes  merely 
this  :  shall  our  carpets  last,  or  we  ?  The  original 
purpose  of  houses  was,  I  suppose,  to  shield  us  from 
unfavorable  weather  in  order  that  we  may  live  and 
thrive.  But  if  we  shut  out  from  them  the  sunlight 
by  which  we  live  and  thrive,  they  are  thus  made 
to  defeat  their  own  purpose.  Now  it  stands  to 
reason  that  carpets  shall  not  regulate  tliis  matter. 
Are  carpets  made  for  houses,  or  houses  for  carpets  ? 
If  the  latter,  then  let  us  put  up  small  but  tasteful 
buildings,  carpet  them  richly,  shut  them  carefully, 
and  build  other  houses  close  by  for  dwelling  houses. 
We  could  step  in  to  see  the  carpets  occasionally, 
and  could  take  our  friends  in.  For  our  dwelling 
houses  we  would  have  straw  matting,  or  carpets 
which  will  bear  fading,  or  stained  wooden  floors, 
or  wood  carpets,  with  rugs  here  and  there,  as  foot 
comforts ;  a  rug,  you  know,  is  easy  to  cover  or  to 
move. 


IX. 


LET  US   VISIT   ONE  ANOTHER. 

"  According  to  her  notions,"  said  Mrs.  Chandler, 
after  reading  Aunt  Rebecca's  letter,  "  people  are 
not  to  trouble  themselves  about  what  they  are  to 
eat." 

"  Oh !  she  doesn't  mean  that,"  said  Eunice. 
"  She  means  that  we  should  put  the  trouble  in  the 
right  place.  People  who  rest  content  with  a  very- 
poor  quality  of  bread,  and  a  scarcity  of  fruits  and 
wholesome  meats,  will  often  trouble  themselves  a 
great  deal  to  manufacture  what  are  called  'light 
victuals.' " 

"Yes,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "see  how  it  is  with 
apples.  Just  bake  them  in  a  pan  with  a  little 
water  and  with  sugar  sprinkled  over  them  —  or 
with  the  cores  taken  out  and  sugar  put  in  the 
middle  —  and  they  are  delicious ;  or  cook  them  in 
quarters,  or  stew  them.  But  either  of  these  ways 
is  too  little  trouble.     We  are  not  satisfied  until  we 

70 


Let  Us   Visit  One  Another.  71 

have  made  a  mixture  of  flour  and  grease  and 
smothered  them  in  that,  and  so  put  work  into 
them." 

"  Here's  a  way  of  smothering  strawberries,"  said 
Eunice,  taking  up  a  newspaper.  "  Listen :  '  Three 
pints  of  flour  sifted  with  two  teaspoonfuls  of 
cream  of  tartar,  dissolve  a  teaspoonful  of  soda  in 
a  pint  of  milk,  or  water,  stir  together,  and  before 
molding  add  half  a  cupful  of  butter,  or  lard, 
melted,  but  not  hot;  stir  this  in  also,  and  then 
mold  thoroughly.  .  .  .  When  taken  from  the 
oven,  split  open  your  cakes,  butter  them  well  and 
cover  with  strawberries,  mashed  and  sweetened.' 
Now  strawberries  are  much  better  eaten  as  they 
grow,  to  say  nothing  of  healthfulness,  but  we  are 
not  satisfied,  as  Mary  Ann  says,  until  we  have  put 
work  into  them." 

"  I  might  put  up  with  plain  living  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Johnson,  "but  I  should  want  something 
better  set  on  the  table  before  company." 

"And  by  something  better,"  said  Allen,  "is 
commonly  understood  something  sweeter,  richer, 
greasier.  I  once  tasted,  at  a  picnic,  some  excel- 
lent cooked  pears.  The  next  day  I  was  the  guest 
of  the  family  who  sent  them.  There  were  pears 
on  the  table,  cooked  in  the  same  way  as  those  of 


^2  Let  Us   Visit  One  Another. 

the  picnic,  but  made  so  8weet,»on  my  account,  that 
I  could  scarcely  more  than  taste  them." 
.   "  This  makes  us  think,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "  of  the 
woman  who  '  put  in  four  spoonfuls,'  because  '  tea 
couldn't  be  too  sweet  for  the  minister.' " 

"  I  knew  of  a  city  judge,"  said  Allen,  "  who, 
when  riding  in  the  country  one  day,  thought  he 
would  take  that  opportunity  of  drinking  a  glass 
of  pure  milk.  The  old  farmer  who  brought  it  to 
him  added  to  it  a  little  molasses,  thinking  to  give 
him  '  something  better.'  " 

"I  believe  that  if  some  folks  could  make  their 
company  cake  all  butter  and  sugar,  they  would," 
said  Miss  'Cindy. 

"  O,  no !  they  wouldn't,"  said  Eunice,  picking 
up  the  newspaper,  and  reading  rapidly.  "They 
would  '  Take  a  cupful  of  butter,  two  even  cupfuls 
of  white  sugar,  three  cupfuls  and  a  half  of  sifted 
flour,  one  scant  cupful  of  milk,  three  teaspoonfuls 
of  baking  powder  in  the  dry  flour,  five  eggs, 
leaving  out  two  whites,  make  frosting  of  the 
remaining  two  whites,  with  eight  tablespoonfuls  of 
fine  white  sugar  (a  little  heaped),  spread  on  the 
layers  of  cake,  then  a  thick  layer  of  fresh  grated 
cocoanut.  .  .  .  Ice  on  top  and  put  on  a  rich 
filling  of  cocoanut.' " 


Let  Us   Visit  One  A  not  her.  73 

"  That's  just  such  a  cake  as  my  cousin  Dora 
made  once  when  I  was  staying  there,"  said  Miss 
'Cindy.  "  She  had  been  talking  a  long  time  about 
having  the  teachers  to  tea.  '  I  want  to  have  'em,' 
she  kept  saying,  '  but  can't  quite  see  my  way  clear 
to  have  'em.'  One  Tuesday  afternoon  she  said  to 
me,  '  It's  no  use  waiting.  The  washing  and  iron- 
ing are  done  and  I  may  as  well  have  'em  to- 
morrow as  any  time.'  She  sent  her  little  boy  over 
and  the  teachers  said  they  should  be  very  happy  to 
come.  The  next  morning  Dora  was  up  bright  and 
early.  '  I  want  to  set  a  good  table,'  said  she,  '  and 
I've  been  awake  these  two  hours,  planning  what 
to  make.  In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  she  made 
this  kind  of  cake,  and  cookies,  and  cream  pie, 
besides  boiling  a  tongue  and  cooking  the  family 
dinner.  There  was  fruit  cake  already  on  hand. 
Her  '  help '  consisted  of  a  little  Irish  girl  twelve  or 
thirteen  years  old.  I  was  an  invalid  at  the  time 
and  could  only  lie  on  the  sofa  and  shake  things  at 
the  baby  to  keep  him  still.  He  sat  on  the  floor 
near  me,  with  his  back  to  the  kitchen  door.  I 
shopk  my  worsted  at  him,  and  my  slipper,  and  the 
tidies,  and  then  dropped  things  down  from  the 
table  as  close  to  his  hands  as  I  could  calculate. 
Dora  worked  hard  until  dinner-time.     After  dinner 


74  Let  Us    Visit  One  Another. 

she  touched  up  the  rooms  a  little,  filled  the  vases, 
dressed  the  baby  and  little  Dora,  aud  had  just  about 
got  her  own  dress  changed  when  the  company- 
came.  It  then  lacked  not  quite  an  hour  of  tea-time, 
and  she  went  out  to  make  the  biscuits  and  see  to 
the  table.  At  tea-time  I  noticed  that  the  hostess 
looked  flushed  and  talked  very  little.  She  told 
me  afterwards  that  she  felt  too  tired  to  talk,  or 
even  enjoy  the  evening,  and  that  she  should  not 
try  to  have  company  again  very  soon." 

Allen  said  he  once  knew  a  little  girl' who  when 
inviting  company,  said  more  than  she  had  been 
told  to.  "  Mother  wants  you  to  come,  'cause  she 
wants  to  have  it  over  with." 

"If  those  teachers  were  invited  to  many  such 
tea  parties,"  said  Eunice,  "  they  were  objects  of 
pity.  A  friend  of  mine  once  went  to  make  a  fort- 
night's visit  in  a  town  where  she  had  numerous 
acquaintances.  She  was  made  the  victim  of  a 
succession  of  tea  parties,  and  on  the  eighth  day 
left  for  home,  literally  fleeing  for  her  life." 

"  Our  talk,"  said  Allen,  "  reminds  me  of  a  re- 
mark made  by  a  celebrated  personage  when  asked 
to  visit  the  Quaker  City.  Said  he,  in  declining, 
'I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  eat  my  way  tlirough 
Philadelphia ! '     We  see  that  this  tiling  works  two 


Let  Us   Visit  One  Another.  75 

ways.  It  prevents  invitations  from  being  given 
and  prevents  them  from  being  accepted ;  so  there 
is  not  only  the  cruelization  of  company  to  be 
considered,  but  the  prevention  of  sociability." 

"  When  the  Simmonses  moved  into  Bybury," 
said  Mary  Ann,  "  it  was  a  long,  long  time  before 
they  were  invited  anywhere.  Everybody  wanted 
to  have  'em,  but  nobody  could  get  time  to  make 
three  kinds  of  cake  and  et  cetera^.  Just  imagine 
this  matter  of  extra-feeding  left  entirely  out  of  the 
company  question,  how  simple  a  matter  would  be 
this  '  having  'em.'  It  would  at  once  let  down  the 
bars,  so  to  speak,  which  keep  us  out  of  the 
delightful  and  desirable  pastures  of  social  inter- 
course. At  present  the  case  stands  thus :  Mrs.  X. 
would  like  to  invite  So-and-So  to  come  and  see  her, 
but  waits  till  she  can  '  set  a  good  table.'  So-and-So 
would  like  drop  in  to  tea  at  Mrs.  X.'s,  but  are 
afraid  to  mortify  her  by  catching  her  without  *a 
good  table.'  Now,  this  table  pride,  by  standing  in 
the  way  of  social  intercourse,  becomes  a  hind- 
rance to  neighborly  union,  and  it  should  have  a 
fall.^' 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  'Cindy.  "  Think  of  the  num- 
bers of  people,  at  this  moment,  in  village,  town, 
and  city,  who  would  like  to  invite,  and  the  numbers 


y6  Let  Us   Visit  One  Another. 

who  would  like  to  be  invited,  and  all  waiting  for 
goodies  to  be  made ! " 

Jed  illustrated  this  remark  by  a  hasty  sketch 
made  on  the  blank  leaf  of  an  old  atlas.  In  his 
sketch,  two  crowds  of  people,  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  stream,  were  reaching  out  their  hands 
as  if  eager  to  meet.  Cooks  were  building  bridges 
of  cakes  and  pies,  in  order  that  the  people  might 
pass  over. 


X. 


MRS.   LAMMERKIN  S  ACCOUNT. 

Furnished  to  Miss  ^  Cindy  ly  one  of  her  Relatives, 
and  read  at  one  of  the  Byhury  Gatherings. 

My  cousin  says,  that  if  some  married  woman 
who  does  her  own  work,  would  give  an  account 
of  a  day's  goings-on  in  the  house,  just  exactly  as 
they  happened,  it  would  be  very  interesting  to 
hear,  and  says  if  I  will  write  one,  she  will  come  up 
to  North  Bybury  and  do  a  week's  mending  for  me. 
It  will  be  an  easy  enough  matter  to  write  one,  and 
I  will  take  yesterday,  not  because  it  was  different 
from  the  general  run  of  days,  but  because  its 
goings-on  are  fresh  in  my  mind. 

John  got  up  and  made  the  fire,  as  is  his  custom, 
and  then  went  out  to  the  barn.  I  got  up  as  soon 
as  he  shut  the  outside  door,  —  this  is  always  my 
signal,  —  and  crept  down-stairs  as  softly  as  1 
possibly  could,  so  as  not  to  wake  the  baby.     I  com- 

77 


78  Mrs.  Lainmcrkiiis  Account. 

monly  stir  up  my  johnny-cake  over  night,  it  is  such 
a  saving  of  cream  o'  tartar,  but  this  time  we  were 
out  of  meal  and  John  was  going  to  get  some  down 
at  the  vilhige  when  he  went  to  the  caucus.  I 
thought  he  did,  but  seeing  the  meal-bucket  wiis  no- 
where to  be  seen,  I  ran  out  to  ask  him  about  it. 
He  said  the  store  was  shut  up  when  he  came  by, 
and  I'd  better  send  Johnny  in  to  Susan  Moseley's 
to  borrow  some,  for  we  don't  feel  as  if  we  could 
make  a  breakfast  without  a  johnny-cake,  and 
besides  we  were  short  of  white  bread,  as  Sister 
Sprague  and  her  family  spent  the  afternoon  here 
the  day  before.  I  set  some  a-rising  as  soon  as  they 
went  home,  but  the  weather  came  round  cold  in 
the  night,  and  come  to  look  at  the  dough  it  wasn't 
half  risen.  I  threw  a  lot  of  potatoes  into  the 
oven,  in  case  worse  came  to  worst,  and  went  all 
the  way  up-stairs  to  call  Johnny,  as  he  is  hard  to 
rouse  in  the  morning,  and  if  I  called  up  the  stair- 
way it  might  wake  the  baby.  Johnny  was  loth  to 
wake,  especially  to  go  of  an  errand,  and  I  knew  it 
wouldn't  be  safe  to  leave  him  until  he  was  sitting 
on  the  outside  the  bed  with  his  clothes  in  his  hand. 
This  took  so  long  that  by  the  time  I  got  down- 
stairs the  fire  was  out.  I  cut  up  a  shingle  with 
the  carving-knife,  and  set  the  fire  going.     It  a\  as 


Mrs.  Lammerkin  s  Account.  79 

about  this  time,  I  tMnk,  that  Johnny  called  down 
that  his  trousers  had  a  hole  in  them.  I  noticed, 
the  night  before,  that  he  slunk  off  to  bed  in  a  sort 
of  sideling  way,  and  was  mighty  ready  to  go.  It 
seems  he  made  that  hole  sliding  down  hill  with  no 
sled,  —  his  was  broke,  —  nor  anything  else  to  slide 
on,  which  had  been  forbidden.  His  other  pair  of 
every-day  ones  were  in  the  wash,  so  I  told  him  to 
put  on  his  best  ones  till  I  could  get  the  hole 
mended,  and  to  hurry  after  the  meal.  The  noise 
we  made  talking  back  and  forth  waked  the  baby, 
as  I  expected  it  would.  I  brought  him  down  and 
pinned  a  cradle  quilt  round  him  and  set  him  up  to 
the  table  and  gave  him  something  to  pound  with. 
Johnny  came  back  quick  with  the  meal  because 
Timmy  Mosely  was  waiting  for  him  outside,  but  I 
said  'twas  no  use  his  thinking  of  playing  out  with 
that  pair  of  trousers  on.  Nellie  B.  came  down 
then,  ready  for  me  to  button  up  her  waists  behind, 
and  with  her  shoes  in  her  hand  for  me  to  untie  the 
knots  in  the  strings.  She  sat  down  in  a  chair  with 
a  shawl  over  her  shoulders  till  the  johnny-cake 
was  in  the  oven.  The  baby  cried  a  good  deal  and 
I  had  to  hold  him  all  breakfast  time,  and  he's  just 
the  age  now  when  he's  pretty  fierce  to  grab  things. 
He  di'opped  off  to  sleep  after  breakfast,  and  then  I 


8o  Mrs.  Lammerkiri  s  Account. 

stood  up  straight  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  think- 
ing what  to  do  first.  The  corned  beef  for  dinner 
needed  to  be  put  in  soak  right  off,  and  the  dinner- 
pot  needed  to  go  on  right  off,  so  as  to  have  the  water 
boiUng,  and  the  dough  was  risen  and  needed  atten- 
tion right  off,  and  there  was  Johnny  asking,  "  Ma, 
when  are  you  going  to  mend  my  trousers  ? "  and 
Nellie  B.  waiting  to  have  her  hair  parted  and  braided 
down  behind,  and  I  felt  in  a  hurry  to  clear  off  the 
table  and  tidy  up  round  the  stove  where  John  had 
made  a  litter  with  chip  dirt, — you  can't  expect  a 
man  when  he's  doing  anything  about  the  house,  to 
cover  his  tracks  like  a  woman,  —  because  it  always 
mortifies  me  to  have  anybody  come  in  and  catch 
me  up  in  heaps.  I  gave  the  dough  a  hasty  stir  to 
stop  its  rising,  and  moved  it  away  from  the  stove, 
then  put  the  meat  to  soak,  then  put  the  dinner-pot 
over,  then  set  the  flatirons  on  the  back  part  of  the 
stove  while  I  thought  of  it,  in  case  there  should  be 
a  chance,  in  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  to  do  up 
two  shirts  left  over  from  ironing  day,  then  took 
hold  of  Johnny's  trousers,  for  Timmy  Mosely  was 
whistling  to  liira  outside  and  almost  driving  him 
distracted.  Nellie  B.  stood  up  in  a  chair  at  the 
looking-glass  to  try  to  part  her  own  hair  for  school, 
and  her  foot  slipped  over  the  edge,  and  down  she 


Mrs.  Latnmerkiiis  Account.  8 1 

went  and  hurt  herself  some  and  began  to  cry ;  so  I 
gave  Johnny  his  trousers,  though  they  were  not 
quite  done,  and  pacified  Nellie  B.,  and  parted  her 
hair,  and  got  her  ready  for  school.  Johnny  darted 
oil  like  a  shot  before  I  had  a  chance  to  see  to  his 
getting  me  some  dry  stuff  to  bum.  When  they 
were  both  gone  I  began  to  knead  my  bread.  Of 
course  the  baby  began  to  nestle  the  moment  my 
hands  were  in  the  dough,  but  I  rocked  the  cradle 
with  my  foot  and  so  managed  to  keep  him  still  tiU 
the  bread  was  in  the  pans.  Then  I  washed  and 
dressed  liim  while  he  was  good,  and  put  liim  on  the 
floor  with  liis  playthings  to  play  with,  then  gathered 
the  dishes  up,  ready  to  wash,  then  ran  up-stah-s  to 
set  the  beds  airing.  I  brought  down  a  sheet  off 
Johnny's  bed,  to  mend  a  rip  in  it,  for  I  knew  the 
rip  would  be  likely  to  be  a  good  deal  larger  the 
next  morning  otherwise,  and  there's  no  time  like 
the  present,  but  first  I  ran  down  cellar  and  fetched 
up  a  cabbage,  as  cabbage  needs  to  go  in  early,  and 
got  that  ready.  .Then  I  hunted  for  my  needle-book, 
—  the  cliildren  had  turned  my  work-basket  topsy- 
turvy,— and  by  the  time  I  had  my  needle  threaded 
one  of  the  neighbors  came  in  to  beg  some  mullein- 
leaves.  I  went  up  garret  to  get  the  mullein  leaves, 
and  there  I  spied  an  old  dress  of  mine  that  I've 


82  Mrs.  Lannnerkiii s  Account. 

been  a  long  time  meaning  to  make  over  for  Nellie 
B.,  and  brought  that  down,  so  as  to  have  it  right 
before  my  face  and  eyes.  After  she  had  gone  I 
concluded  to  let  the  sheet  be  and  do  up  the  work 
before  anybody  else  came  in.  First,  I  washed  the 
dishes,  then  scoured  the  knives,  then  wiped  ofE 
the  buttery  shelves,  then  brushed  the  stove,  then 
skimmed  the  milk,  then  got  the  baby  to  sleep,  and 
then  began  to  wash  out  a  dress  and  petticoat  for 
him — he's  just  getting  into  his  winter  clothes,  and 
they're  not  all  made.  yet.  While  I  was  in  the  midst 
of  doing  this  John  sent  a  man  home  after  a  key,  so 
I  wiped  my  hands  and  went  ui^staii-s  and  hunted 
in  all  his  pockets,  and  in  boxes  and  drawers  and 
closets,  and  on  the  floor  in  places  where  he  might 
have  dropped  it,  and  didn't  find  any  key,  but  found 
tliin  places  in  some  of  the  pockets,  and  brought 
down  two  pairs  of  pantaloons  and  hung  them  over 
a  chair-back  against  there  was  a  chance  to  mend 
the  pockets.  Then  I  finished  my  wasliing,  and  then 
ran  upstairs  and  made  two  beds.  While  I  was  up 
there  I  stopped  at  the  glass  a  minute  to  straighten 
my  collar  and  put  my  hair  into  little  better  shape, 
for  in  the  morning  I  was  in  too  much  of  a  huny 
to  give  it  much  more  than  a  "slick  and  a  promise," 
but  hearing  the  baby  I  bobbed  it  up  any  way  and 


Mrs.  Laimnerkin  s  Account.  83 

hurried  down  just  in  time  to  keep  him  from  going 
over  the  side  of  the  cradle.  I  thought  I'd  mend 
the  sheet  and  make  the  other  bed,  but  upon  second 
thought  concluded  to  iron  a  shirt,  as  the  baby's  al- 
ways the  best  when  he  first  wakes  up ;  but  fii-st  I 
had  to  bring  up  the  turnips  and  potatoes  and  get 
them  ready,  and  then  to  go  out-doors  after  some 
dry  wood,  and  then  to  pump  a  pail  of  water. 
Meanwhile  the  bread  got  baked  and  taken  out,  and 
rolled  up  in  the  bread-cloth.  I  got  a  bad  smirch 
on  the  shirt-bosom  almost  the  first  thing,  which 
was  on  account  of  the  pot  boiling  over  while  I  was 
up-stairs,  though  I  thought  I  wiped  every  speck  off 
the  flatiron,  but  it  does  seem  sometimes  as  if  flat- 
irons  had  total  depravity  about  them,  especially 
when  you  are  doing  up  starched  things.  While  I 
was  washing  the  smirch  off,  I  happened  to  think 
that  Johnny's  other  pair  of  everyday  trousers  ought 
to  be  ironed  in  case  the  ones  he  had  on  should 
give  out,  and  it  was  lucky  I  did,  for  he  came  home 
before  school  was  done,  ciying  because  the  hole 
had  come  again.  I  broke  my  thread  off  too  short, 
being  in  a  hurry  when  Nellie  B.  slipped  off  the 
chair,  and  so  the  stitches  had  drawn  out.  I  got  a 
needle  and  thread  and  caught  the  edges  together 
and  sent  him  to  the  store  to  get  some  vinegar. 


84  Mrs.  Lammerkin  s  Account. 

Then  I  gave  the  baby  a  sleigh-bell  and  the  muffin- 
rings  and  the  skimmer  and  some  tin  porringers  to 
quiet  him  and  put  on  a  thing  of  rice  to  boil,  and 
stirred  uj)  a  pan  of  gingerbread  for  supper  and  got 
that  into  the  oven,  and  put  the  turnips  and  potatoes 
in  the  pot.  The  baby  began  to  grow  fractious,  so  I 
moved  my  ironing  table  close  up  to  him,  and  every 
time  he  cried  I  jingled  the  playthings  with  my  foot. 
My  aim  was  to  get  the  shirt  done,  and  I  did  after 
a  fashion,  just  in  time  to  set  the  table  for  dinner. 
I  had  to  carry  the  baby  round  with  me  while  I  was 
setting  it,  for  I  couldn't  bear  to  turn  him  off  any 
longer.  While  I  was  taking  up  dinner  Nellie  B. 
was  learning  her  map-lesson  in  a  terrible  huriy,  she 
said,  "  for  all  that  missed  would  have  to  stay,"  and 
I  actually  had  to  stop  between  the  cabbage  and 
potatoes  to  find  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Altogether  I 
forgot  the  gingerbread  until  I  happened  to  spy  the 
oven  door,  which  Nellie  B.  opened  unbeknown  to 
me  to  dry  her  feet,  and  it  fell  in  the  baking,  but 
I'll  risk  its  going  a-begging.  Joluiny  kept  the  baby 
still  by  piling  up  the  tin  things  and  having  launch- 
ings  with  them. 

After  dinner,  I  washed  the  dishes  and  swept  up 
around  the  stove,  and  gave  the  stove  a  little  brush, 
and  watered  my  plants,  and  looked  at  my  pickles, 


Mrs.  Lammerkins  Account.  85 

and  mended  the  sheet,  and  made  the  other  bed,  and 
ironed  the  baby's  dress  and  petticoat,  and  let  down 
Nellie  B.'s  dress  for  Sunday,  and  basted  a  ruffle  in 
the  neck  of  it,  and  sponged  the  cloth  for  Johnny's 
new  suit  of  clothes,  and  ripped  the  old  dress  to 
pieces.  I  wanted  to  get  through  with  most  of  my 
odd  jobs,  for  next  day  would  be  cleaning  day,  and 
next  day  would  be  baking  day,  and  next  day  Sun- 
day, and  then  would  come  on  another  week's  wash- 
ing and  ironing  and  so  on.  In  the  evening  I  mended 
such  things  as  would  be  likely  to  be  needed  first, 
and  finished  rebosoming  one  of  John's  shirts,  and 
pared  some  apples  for  sauce,  and  picked  over  some 
raisins  against  Saturday's  baking,  and  helped  Johnny 
with  his  examples,  and  stirred  up  my  johnny-cake 
for  morning.  I  sat  up  rather  late  in  order  to  finish 
another  of  baby's  little  dresses.  Baby  slept  better 
than  usual  through  the  night,  and  I  should  have 
had  an  uncommonly  good  night's  rest  if  Nellie  B. 
hadn't  waked  crying  with  the  earache.  Luckily,  it 
happened  before  the  fire  was  out,  so  I  roasted  an 
onion  in  the  ashes  and  clapped  the  heart  of  it  in 
her  ear  and  bound  up  her  head,  and  after  a  while 
she  went  off  to  sleep.  Some  say  that  a  piece  of  fat 
pork  is  better  than  an  onion. 


XI. 


MR.   LAMMERKIN's   ENDEAVORS,   AS  NARRATED 
BY  MRS.   LAMMERKIN.* 

I'm  neither  a  "  mejum  "  nor  a  mind  reader,  but  I 
can  give  a  pretty  good  guess  as  to  the  time  when 
John  first  thought  of  our  employing  hired  help. 
In  my  opinion,  this  happened  one  day  when  I  was 
not  feeling  well,  and  he  offered  to  do  the  work. 
John  is  one  of  the  kindest-hearted  men.  He  bol- 
stered me  up  on  the  front-room  lounge,  half  smoth- 
ering me  in  shawls,  and,  said  he,  "  Now,  Elinor,  I 
can  stay  in  the  house  to-day  as  well  as  not ;  and  if 
you'll  make  out  a  list  of  the  things  you  were  going 
to  do  this  forenoon,  I'll  do  them  just  like  a  book." 
So  I  mentioned  the  principal  things,  and  he  wrote 
them  down. 

Get  children  ready  for  school ;  wash  dishes ; 
sweep ;  make  the  beds ;  fill  the  lamps ;  see  to  the 
baby ;  rub  the  knives ;  make  a  stew  for  dinner ; 

•  Bead  by  MUs  'Cindy. 

86 


Mr.  Lammerkiii  s  Endeavors.  87 

make  mush  for  dinner ;  skim  the  milk ;  work  over 
yesterday's  butter;  bake  the  bread;  iron  the  baby's 
flannel  petticoat;  hang  out  some  clothes  left  in 
soak  since  Monday ;  bake  a  pie  for  supper.  There 
was  a  piece  of  piecrust  in  the  basin,  I  told  him,  so 
all  he  would  have  to  do  was  to  roll  it  out  and  cover 
the  plate  and  put  in  the  mince  and  cover  that 
over. 

I  lay  where  I  could  look  into  the  kitchen.  The 
baby  was  close  by  me,  in  his  cradle,  and  I  managed 
to  tend  him  the  greater  part  of  the  forenoon.  John 
acted  quite  handy  in  getting  the  children  ready  for 
school,  though  Nellie  B.'s  parting  did  look  some  like 
a  "  heiTing-bone  pattern,"  and  in  clearing  off  the 
table,  I  couldn't  have  done  better  myself,  except 
that  he  took  a  good  deal  of  time  for  it.  "  The  best 
way,"  said  he,  "■  is  to  go  on  with  regularity,  and  not 
get  hurried  and  flurried."  He  scraped  every  dish 
as  clean  as  a  whistle,  and  piled  them  up  in  piles,  the 
small  ones  at  the  top,  and  got  the  pan,  and  went  to 
pour  out  the  dishwater.  "  Why ! "  said  he,  "  there 
isn't  a  cupful ! " 

"  The  kettle  ought  to  have  been  filled  up,"  said 
I.     '*  You  have  to  look  out  about  that." 

He  filled  up  the  kettle,  and  said  he  believed  he 
would  sweep  the  kitchen.     He  carried  out  all  the 


88  Ml'.  Lammcrkin  s  Endeavors. 

mats  and  shook  them.  "This  ought  to  be  done 
every  day,"  said  he,  and  moved  the  furniture  into 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  "  so  as  to  go  thorough,"  he 
said,  and  began  to  sprinkle  the  floor,  but  the  baby 
cried  then,  and  would  not  be  pacified. 

"  He  wants  his  bottle,"  said  I. 

John  brought  the  milk  out  from  the  back  buttery 
and  warmed  it  on  the  stove,  and  then  said  the  bottle 
smelled  sour. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  you  have  to  look  out  about  that. 
It  wants  scalding.  You'll  have  to  take  him."  lie 
carried  him  round  while  the  water  was  heating,  and 
let  liim  lie  on  the  floor  and  cry  while  the  bottle  was 
being  scalded  and  the  milk  poured  in,  then  put  him 
in  the  cradle,  then  set  back  the  furniture,  and  then 
went  on  with  his  dishes  in  first-rate  style.  When 
they  were  about  half-done  he  suddenly  cried  out,  — 

"  Gracious ! " 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  I. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  the  dough  is  rising  over  and 
running  down  on  the  hearth ! " 

"  Oh  I  I  suppose  so,  by  tliis  time,"  said  I,  "  you 
have  to  look  out  about  that.  It  ought  to  go  into 
the  pans,  but  just  give  it  a  stir  now,  and  let  -it 
wait." 

He  had  hardly  done  this,  and  scraped  the  dough 


Mr:  Lammerkiii  s  Endeazwrs.  89 

off  the  hearth,  and  begun  on  his  dishes  again,  when 
the  meat-cart  stopped  at  the  gate.  He  wiped  his 
hands,  and  slipped  on  his  coat,  and  ran  out  and 
bought  the  meat  for  the  stew.  I  told  him  it  ought 
to  go  right  over  the  fire,  so  he  got  the  dinner-pot, 
and  wouldn't  have  thought  of  washing  the  meat, 
but  I  mentioned  it  to  him,  and  told  him  how  much 
water,  and  to  set  it  in  one  of  the  back  places  where 
it  would  do  gradually.  By  this  time  the  dishwater 
had  grown  cold,  so  he  poured  it  off  and  went  to 
the  kettle,  but  there  wasn't  very  much  hot  —  he 
forgot  to  fill  the  kettle  again  —  so  he  went  to  work 
on  the  dough,  and  kneaded  that  over,  after  a  fash- 
ion of  his  own,  and  dumped  it  into  the  pans ;  then 
finished  the  dishes,  then  rubbed  the  knives,  then 
filled  the  lamps  and  washed  them  all  in  soapsuds, 
—  on  account  of  letting  the  kerosene  run  over,  — 
then  swept  the  room,  without  moving  all  the  fur- 
niture out  this  time,  then  went  up-stairs  and  made 
the  beds,  then  brought  me  the  pans  to  see  if  the 
dough  were  risen  enough.  I  said  it  must  be  baked 
immediately,  but  that  the  oven  must  not  be  too  hot 
at  the  beginning.     He  stepped  back  with  it. 

"There's  no  danger,"  said  he.  "Why,  the  oven's 
scarcely  warm.     There  isn't  very  much  fire." 

"  Oh ! "  said  I,  "  the  fire  has  to  be  attended  to 


90  Mr.  Lammcrkiii  s  Endeavors. 

when  there's  anything  to  bake.  You  liave  to  look 
out  about  that." 

"  You've  said  that  four  times,"  said  he. 

"  I  won't  say  it  any  more,"  said  I.  *'  Set  it  in  a 
cold  place,  and  start  the  fire." 

"  There's  nothing  but  large  wood  here,"  said  he. 

"  Johnny  ouglit  to  have  been  made  to  bring  in 
some  dry  stuff  before  he  went  to  school,"  said  I. 
"  You  have  to  loo  —  I  mean,  he's  very  apt  to  forget 
his  chores." 

John  ran  out  in  a  hurry,  and  I'll  own  it  did  not 
distress  me  to  hear  liim  hacking  away  at  the  wood- 
pile, for  I've  done  the  same  thing  myself,  and  I  like 
him  to  know  what  it  was  to  want  to  start  a  fire  in 
a  hurry,  and  have  nothing  to  start  it  up  with.  He 
soon  came  back  with  a  whole  armful  of  dry  stuff, 
and  put  a  good  deal  of  it  in  and  opened  all  the 
dampers,  and  set  the  old  stove  a-roaring  so  I  thought 
the  chimney  would  get  a-fire,  and  called  out  to  him 
for  goodness'  sake  to  shut  the  dampers,  quick,  and 
put  in  something  solid. 

As  soon  as  there  was  a  good  fire  a-going,  and  the 
bread  had  been  put  in, -he  went  out  into  the  back 
kitchen  to  wring  those  few  pieces  out  of  the  tub, 
and  made  such  a  splashing  that  though  I  called  — 
on  account  of  wanting   the   baby's   bottle  —  and 


Mr.  Lammerkins  Endeavors.  91 

knocked  with  an  umbrella,  he  did  not  hear,  but 
hung  out  the  clothes.  When  he  came  back,  he 
looked  into  the  oven,  and  said,  — 

"  Elinor,  'tis  black." 

"I  was  afraid  so,"  said  I.  "You  have — that  is, 
bread  has  to  be  watched." 

John  looked  at  liis  list. 

"  I'll  iron  that  little  petticoat,  now,"  said  he. 

"Is  the  flatiron  on?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  said  he.     And  on  it  went  with  a  thump. 

"How  about  the  meat?"  said  I.  "Don't  let  it 
catch  on." 

He  took  off  the  pot-cover. 

"It  has,"  said  he.  "'Tis  dry  as  a  chip,  inside 
here." 

"  I  thought  I  smelled  something,"  said  I.  "  You 
have  to — I  mean  it's  a  sign  of  rain  when  the  water 
boils  away  fast." 

"I'll  sit  down,  and  keep  watch  o'  these  matters," 
said  he. 

I  inquired  the  time  of  day. 

"  Just  going  to  strike  eleven,"  said  he. 

"  You've  a  good  many  things  to  do  in  an  hour," 
said  I. 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  he.  "I'd  better  keep  mov- 
ing. 


92  Mr.  Latmnerkiji  s  Endeavors. 

He  went  into  the  back  butterj  to  skim  the  milk, 
and,  when  he  came  back,  said  the  cat  had  saved 
him  the  trouble  of  skimming  one  pan. 

"I  suppose  the  buttery  door  has  been  left  open 
ever  since  you  got  the  baby's  milk,"  said  I.  "  You 
have  to"  — 

"To  look  out  about  that  cat?"  said  he. 

"No,"  said  I,  "about  the  door.  I  have  to  stop 
and  set  a  chair  against  it  every  time  I  come  out." 

This  touched  him  in  a  tender  spot;  for,  if  I  had 
asked  him  once  to  get  that  latch  mended,  I  had 
twenty  times. 

Sick  as  I  felt,  I  thought  I  should  die  a-laugliing 
to  see  the  manoeuvers  in  that  kitchen,  the  last  hour 
before  dinner.  I  think  about  every  dish  and  pan 
in  the  house  were  brought  out,  and  set  down,  some 
in  chairs,  some  on  tables,  and  one  or  two  on  the 
floor,  to  make  room  for  the  ironing  cloth.  John  is 
a  plucky  fellow.  He  was  determined  to  do  every- 
tliing  that  was  on  the  list.  He  flew  round  like  a 
top,  running  here  and  there,  fetching  and  carrying, 
and  asking  questions.  He  spatted  the  butter,  he 
peeled  the  potatoes,  and  doused  them  in,  he  rushed 
after  the  meal-bucket,  —  for  the  mush,  —  he  went 
like  a  dart  to  fetch  the  ironing  cloth,  taking  mighty 
quick  steps  for  a  person  that  felt  in  no  hurry,  and 


Mr.  Lammerkin  s  Endeavors.  93 

mighty  long  ones, — two  of  'em  took  him  across  the 
kit<ihen,  —  and  on  his  tiptoes  part  of  the  time,  be- 
cause 1  lay  back  with  a  veil  over  my  face  and  he 
thought  I  was  asleep.  But  I  wasn't,  I  was  laugh- 
ing. When  the  water  boiled  away  again,  I  heard 
him  mutter, "  Oh !  you  have  to  look  out  about  that." 
He  filled  the  pot  so  full  it  boiled  over.  "  Oh !  j^ou 
have  to  look  out  about  that,"  he  muttered  again. 
In  ironing  the  baby's  flannel  petticoat,  he  scorched 
a  place,  and  I  saw  by  the  motion  of  his  lips  that  he 
was  whispering,  "  Oh !  you  have  to  look  out  about 
that."  He  made  the  same  motion  when  the  spoon- 
handle  slipped  into  the  mush,  and  when  the  baby — 
baby  was  out  there  in  his  high-chair  —  grabbed  the 
buttermilk  basin;  and  when  the  fire  almost  went 
out  again,  and  especially  when  some  of  the  clothes- 
pins dropped  off  the  line  and  let  the  clothes  drag 
on  the  ground.  The  words  were  spoken  out  loud, 
then,  and  had  another  word  joined  to  them  that 
sounded  almost  like  a  "swear  word."  I  asked  him 
when  he  was  going  to  bake  his  pie..  He  asked  me 
if  I  didn't  tliink  we  could  do  very  well  without  pie 
for  one  night,  and  I  said.  Oh !  yes,  if  he  could.  So 
he  picked  up  the  rolling-pin  out  of  the  clothes- 
basket  and  the  rolling-board  from  behind  the  door, 
and  carried  them  away. 


94  Mf-  Lammerkiii  s  Endeavors. 

The  children  came  home  from  school  and  had  to 
wait  half  an  hour  for  their  dinner.  John  let  them 
eat  as  soon  as  it  was  ready,  but  said  he  believed  he 
would  quiet  down  a  little  before  he  took  anytliing 
into  his  stomach,  or  he  should  have  dyspepsia. 

That  evening,  after  the  children  were  in  bed, 
and  the  house  was  still,  John  sat  by  the  fire  a  long 
time  very  quiet,  as  if  engaged  in  meditation.  At 
last  he  broke  out  with :  — 

"I  could  have  done  every  identical  thing  on  that 
list  —  if  there  had  been  time  enough;  and  done 
them  well — only  for  having  to  keep  up  such  a  con- 
tinual lookout.  I  don't  see  how  the  —  cook-stove 
— you  manage  to  think  forwards  and  backwards 
and  all  round,  and  carry  on  so  many  things  at  once. 
And  you  do  a  great  many  more  things  than  I  did, 
make  clothes  and  mend  them,  and  wash  and  iron 
and  bake  and  clean  house,  and  see  to  the  children, 
and  tend  baby  night  and  day ;  and  there  seems  to 
be  no  end,  no  let-up ;  there's  something  for  every 
hour  and  every  minute."  "  I  shouldn't  mind  that 
so  much,"  said  I,  "if  there  were  only  hours  and 
minutes  enough  for  the  work.  But  sometimes 
when  I  wake  up  in  the  morning  and  tliink  of  what 
must  be  done  that  day,  and  of  the  yesterday's  work 
left  undone,  and  of  to-morrow's  which  is  sure  to 


Mr.  Lammerkin's  Endeavors.  95 

come,  I  own  I  do  now  and  then  feel  discouraged, 
particularly  when  baby  has  had  a  worrisome  night. 
I  soon  brighten  up,  though,  and  take  lots  of  com- 
fort doing  things  for  you  and  the  children.  But 
sometimes  I  think  that  even  for  her  family's  sake, 
a  woman  ought  to  have  time  to  eat." 

"  Why,  Elinor ! "  said  he,  "  what  do  you  mean  ? 
you  always  come  to  the  table  regular." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  if  a  woman  hurries  through 
the  forenoon  and  feels  tired,  and  worried,  and 
tremulous  like,  she  doesn't  feel  like  eating,  and  be- 
sides, her  food  is  apt  to  disagi'ee  with  her,  espe- 
cially if  she  has  to  go  on  hurrjdng  right  after  eating; 
and  if  this  sort  of  thing  is  kept  up  a  good  while, 
why  of  course  she  gets  all  run  down,  and  can't  do 
for  her  family  as  she  otherwise  would." 

Upon  this  John  went  into  another  fit  of  medita- 
tion. Once  during  the  time  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, without  stirring,  "No  noonings,  no  evenings, 
no  rainy  days."  Afterwards  he  turned  in  his  chair, 
rested  his  chin  on  the  back  and  muttered  the  same 
thing,  "  No  noonings,  no  evenings,  no  rainy  days." 


xn. 

•WOMAN,   OR  WOKK?  —  THE  QUESTION   AS  DIS- 
CUSSED AT  MRS.   LAMMERKIN'S. 

.  .  .  Cousin  Lou  came  over  last  night ;  and 
who  should  come  with  her  but  Mrs.  Bent  hei-self  ? 
"  I  teased  her  to  come,"  said  Lou,  "because  I  thought 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  hear  from  her  own 
mouth  just  what  she  does,  and  how  she  does." 

The  moment  their  things  were  off,  Lou  seated 
Mrs.  Bent  in  the  rocking-chair,  and  said,  "Now 
we're  ready.  Just  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell 
all  about  it." 

"There  isn't  so  very  much  to  tell,"  said  Mrs. 
Bent,  "and  there  wouldn't  have  been  anything  if 
my  husband  were  not  the  best  husband  in  the 
world." 

"  Oh  1  not  equal  to  John,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course,  not  equal  to  John ! "  cried  Lou ;  and, 
"  Of  course  not ! "  cried  John  himself. 

"  Well,  call  him  second  best ; "  said  Mi*8.  Bent, 
96 


Woman,  or  Work  f  97 

laughing.  "My  husband,  being  the  second  best 
husband  in  the  world,  takes  different  views  of 
things  from  most  husbands." 

"  John  does,"  said  I. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  said  she. 

"  Let's  hear  the  second  best's  views,"  said  John. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Lou,  "  that  by  'views  of  things,' 
you  mean  views  of  household  matters." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bent.  "The  general  idea  is, 
you  know,  among  men  and  women  both,  that  in  the 
household  the  work,  the  week's  work,  should  have 
the  first  consideration.  In  most  families  there  is 
what  is  called  'a  system.'  An  elderly  woman,  a 
well-to-do  farmer's  wife,  once  said  to  me,  with  cAd- 
dent  self-satisfaction, '  I  always  had  my  system,  and 
always  carried  it  out.  Every  day  had  its  work ;  and 
I  never  let  my  feelings  interfere  with  my  system.' 
At  the  time  of  her  telling  me  this  she  was  in  a  Re- 
medial Institute,  under  treatment  for  '  weakly  com- 
plaints,' which  were  brought  on,  as  she  told  me  at 
another  time,  by  overwork. 

"If  we  look  around  among  families  who,  like 
ourselves,  belong  to  the  poorer  class  and  do  with- 
out help,  we  shall  see  that  '  the  work '  rules.  In 
the  course  of  the  week  there  must  be  a  certain 
quantity  of   wasliing,  ironing,  mending,  making, 


98  Woman,  or   Work? 

cooking  and  cleaning  done.  Must  be.  This  ne- 
cessity is  a  sort  of  iron  frame  to  wliich  the  woman 
feels  obliged  to  fit  herself.  If  the  frame  is  too 
large,  she  must,  as  one  may  say,  stretch  out,  to 
meet  its  requirements;  that  is,  work  beyond  her 
strength,  endure  beyond  her  endurance." 

"  But  how  is  this  going  to  be  helped  ? "  said  I. 
*'  There's  the  work,  and  it  must  be  done." 

"We'll  consider  that  point  by  and  by,"  said  Mrs. 
Bent.  "  Let  us  go  on  step  by  step,  as  my  husband 
did.  The  first  step  he  took  was  with  his  eyes.  He 
opened  his  eyes  in  some  peculiar  way,  and  saw,  he 
said,  that '  the  work '  outranked  the  woman,  domi- 
neered over  her,  drove  her,  enslaved  her.  And  he 
said,  '  This  can't  be  right.  Work  is  a  means,  not 
an  end.  We  don't  live  to  work,  we  work  to  live. 
There  ought  to  be  a  revolution,'  said  he.  'The 
work  ought  to  come  down  from  the  thi-one,  and 
"  the  woman  "  ought  to  reign  in  its  stead.' " 

"  And  I  agree  with  him,"  said  John. 

"Yes,"saidl,  "but  — " 

"  We  are  coming  to  your  but  presently,"  said  she. 
"Let  me  tell  first,  how  my  husband  fortified  his 
position,  that  is,  stated  his  reasons  why  woman's 
health  should  be  more  considered  than  woman's 
work.     One  reason  is,  that  the  children  born  of  a 


Womau,  or   Work  f  99 

feeble,  sickly,  nervous,  overdriven  woman,  are 
wronged  at  their  birth,  and  before  their  birth. 

"  Another  reason  is,  that  such  a  woman  cannot  be 
the  power  in  the  family  which  she  otherwise  could ; 
cannot  fill  the  place  which  every  wife  and  mother 
should  fill.  ^A  family  of  children  growing  up  need 
the  mother  at  her  best.  All  her  faculties,  mental 
and  physical,  at  their  best,  will  be  required  for  the 
proper  rearing  of  those  children,  and,  also,  to  make 
her  a  true  helpmeet  to  her  husband. 

"And  then  there's  the  woman  herself  to  be  consid- 
ered, apart  from  what  she  is  to  her  family.  A  woman 
is  born  to  enjoy  life,  to  enjoy  her  health,  enjoy  her 
mind,  enjoy  good  company,  to  enjoy  the  beautiful 
things  which  God  has  made,  and  which  man  has 
made.  Her  mind  ought  to  grow.  It  is  not  a  talent 
to  be  hid  away  in  a  napkin.  Moreover,  she  is  born 
to  live.  Now  if  a  woman  stays  in  the  house  year 
after  year,  breathing  second-rate  air,  working  be- 
yond her  strength,  thus  stunting  herself  physically ; 
taking  no  time  for  reading  and  study,  thus  stunting 
herself  mentally ;  why,  what  is  this,  my  husband 
asks,  but  a  double  suicide?  slow,  to  be  sure,  but 
none  the  less  wicked  for  that." 

I  said,  "Your  talk  seems  reasonable;  still,  this 
matter  is  not  clear  to  me.     Let  alone  present  com- 


lOO  Woman,  or  Work  ? 

pany,  I  know  many  a  woman  who  finds  real 
pleasure  in  keeping  her  house  tidy,  and  in  making 
goodies  for  her  husband,  even  if  these  things  ttike 
her  time  and  strength.  Don't  you  believe  in  neat- 
ness ?     Don't  you  believe  in  self-sacrifice  ?  " 

"  Thoroughly  and  everlastingly ! "  ifjaid  Lou,  "  if 
the  end  be  worthy.  I've  nothing  to  say  against 
housework.  Too  many  women  do  too  little  of  it. 
If  we  must  stay  in  the  house,  some  exercise  is 
better  than  all  sitting  still.  And  it  need  not  hin- 
der mental  culture.  But  when  the  proportions  are 
unequal,  —  that  is,  when  there  is  more  work  than 
there  is  woman,  the  question  is,  which  shall  give 
way,  woman,  or  work  ?  And  as  to  the  making  6l 
goodies,  why,  I  beUeve  that  wives  do  take  real 
pleasure  in  pleasing  their  husbands  in  this  way. 
But,  when  there  is  m(jre  goody-work  than  there  is 
woman,  —  which  sliall  be  sacrificed?  If  you  say, 
the  woman,  I  say,  that,  for  such  self-sacrifice,  the 
end  is  not  worthy." 

"And  as  to  this  matter  of  pleasing  husbands," 
said  Mra.  Bent,  "are  there  not  better  ways  of  pleas- 
ing them  than  the  one  just  mentioned?  liigher  ways, 
I  mean,  worthier,  more,  on  the  whole,  satisfactory? 
Take,  now,  a  good,  sensible,  intelligent  husband, 
and  give  liim  his  choice :  a  table  provided  with 


WofHan,  or  Workf  lOi 

*  goodies,'  with  a  wife  too  tired  to  be  a  cheerful 
companion,  so  occupied  with  household  matters 
that  she  has  no  time  for  mental  improvement,  and 
can  take  no  interest  in  ideas ;  or,  plainer  food,  with 
a  wife  in  good  health,  good  spirits,  who  has  enough 
mental  cultivation  to  make  her  society  agreeable, 
as  well  as  to  command  the  respect  of  her  children, 
and  to  exert  the  right  influence  upon  their  charac- 
ters.    Which  would  he  choose  ?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  paying  a  very  high  compliment 
to  say  that  he  would  choose  the  first,"  said  Lou. 

"  Indeed  it  wouldn't,"  said  Mrs.  Bent.  "  And  it 
seems  to  me  that  when  people  talk  of  its  being  the 
duty  of  the  wife  to  do  things  to  please  her  husband, 
they  should  consider  that  there  are  different  kinds 
of  things,  and  that  the  husband  might  prefer  the 
higher  kind  to  the  lower  kind." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  I ;  "  but,  oh,  dear ! 
must  we  give  them  bread  and  water  ?  Oh,  how 
confused  everything  seems  !  I'm  sure  God  has 
given  us  palates  to  be  pleased.  And  so  do  the 
men  work  too  hard.  And  I  think  it  is  our  duty  to 
give  attention  to  the  cooking." 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  said  Lou.  "  I  believe  in  giving 
more  attention  to  cooking  than  is  given  —  of  the 
right  kind  of   attention;   believe  in  pleasing  hus- 


I02  Woman,  or   Work? 

bands,  in  making  home  happy,  and  all  that.  And  as 
for  men  working  so  hard,  the  conditions  are  wrong 
there,  too ;  and  a  change  is  needed,  and  it  wiU  come 
sometime,  that  is,  when  men  feel  their  higher  needs ; 
but,  just  at  this  particular  moment,  our  question  is 
— Woman,  or  Work?  And  what  I  insist  upon,  and 
what  Mrs.  Bent  insists  upon,  and  what  her  husband 
insists  upon,  is  this,  that  when  there  is,  as  I  said 
just  now,  more  housework  and  more  goody-work 
than  there  is  woman,  they  shall  give  way,  and  not 
the  woman.  For  a  woman  is  made  of  material  too 
precious  to  be  scrubbed  into  floors,  or  rolled  out 
and  cut  up  into  cookies  1 " 

"But — Mrs.  Bent,  you  haven't  come  to  my  but," 
said  I. 

"Which  is,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Bent,  "but  how 
is  the  work  to  be  done  if  the  woman  can't  do  it  her- 
self, nor  liire  a  girl  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Precisely,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  say,"  she  answered,  "  that  this  but  can 
be  smoothed  over  so  as  to  be  wiped  entirely  off  the 
face  of  the  earth ;  but  I  will  tell  you  what  the 
second-best  husband  in  the  world  and  his  wife  have 
done  in  this  direction." 

I  will  write  again  and  tell  you  what  she  said. 


XIII. 

A  HIRED  GIRL. — PORTION  OP  A  LETTER  WRITTEN 
TO  MISS   'CINDY  BY  MRS.   LAMMERKIN. 

.  .  .  I  HAD  noticed  for  several  days  that  John 
seemed  to  watch  me  pretty  closely,  and  that  he  tried 
to  save  my  steps.  As  I  said  before,  there  never  was 
a  kinder-hearted  man  than  my  husband.  After  his 
mind  was  once  turned  to  the  subject  it  seemed  to 
worry  him,  that,  not  sometimes,  but  all  the  time, 
my  work  and  my  cares  hurried  me,  pressed  me, 
crowded  upon  me. 

"  Flesh  and  blood  can't  stand  it,"  —  said  he,  — 
"this  everlasting  strain  of  body  and  mind,  that 
never  lets  up  for  a  moment,  all  day  long,  and  not 
always  at  night,  nor  even  Sundays.  From  one 
week's  end  to  another,  from  one  year's  end  to  an- 
other, it  is  just  the  same.  It  won't  do.  I  mean  to 
get  a  hired  girl." 

I  shook  my  head  and  said,  "We  can't  do  that; 
that  takes  money." 

103 


I04  A  Hired  Girl. 

"You  know  I  got  two  hundred  more  than  I  ex- 
pected for  the  onions  and  turnips,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  said  I.  "  But  you  were  going  to  buy  the 
Chapman  pasture  with  that." 

"  Look  here  a  moment,"  said  he.  "  Let's  talk  this 
matter  over  in  a  common-sense  way.  If  you  or 
any  of  us  were  very  dangerously  sick,  and  a  cure 
could  be  bought,  we  shouldn't  wait  long  to  de- 
cide whether  to  spend  the  money  in  that  way,  or 
in  buying  the  Chapman  pasture.  Now  my  reas- 
on tells  me  that  you  can't  go  on  long  as  you  are 
going  on,  without  running  down.  For  you  spend 
more  than  you  make ;  you  are  breaking  in  on  the 
principal :  I  mean  that  you  use  up  your  strength 
faster  than  you  get  it.  We  are  talking  this  over, 
you  know,  in  a  sensible  kind  of  way,  looking  at 
things  as  they  are.  Of  course,  'tis  no  more  than 
natural  that  I  should  care  a  good  deal  about  you ; 
and  if  I  do,  why,  it  is  no  more  than  natural  that  I 
should  rather  spend  money  in  keeping  you  well, 
than  in  buying  the  Chapman  pasture.  Fact  is," 
said  he,  swinging  round  in  his  chair  so  as  to  half 
turn  his  face  away  from  me,  "  I  don't  believe  that 
even  for  his  own  sake,  a  man  can  invest  money  in 
any  better  way  than  to  invest  in  health  for  his  wife. 
That's  my  opinion,  and  I  mean  to  stick  to  it." 


A  Hired  Girl.  105 

It  was  something  new  for  me  to  hear  a  man  talk 
in  this  way.  ^My  father  was  a  kind  husband ;  but  I 
don't  tliink  it  ever  entered  his  head  that  if  mother  had 
worked  less,  she  would  have  suffered  less,  and  have 
lived  longer.  He  knew  that  she  was  overworked, 
and  knew  that,  after  long  suffering  from  ill-health, 
she  died  in  early  middle  age.  Still,  I  feel  sure  that 
he  never  put  these  two  things  together.  I  think 
he  took  it  for  granted  that  her  various  ailments, 
and  her  death,  were  mysterious  visitations  of  God. 
Yet,  as  I  look  back  now,  I  see  that  she  stopped  liv- 
ing because  she  was  worn  out.  Father  thought  a 
good  deal  of  mother,  and  never  grudged  in  the 
least  what  went  for  doctors'  bills  and  medicine ; 
but  he  was  one  of  the  kind  of  men  who  think  that 
money  spent  inside  the  house,  say,  for  convenience 
in  doing  the  work,  or  in  making  things  look  pretty, 
is  money  turned  aside  from  its  natural  course ;  and 
I  believe,  that,  with  all  his  attachment  to  mother, 
he  felt  just  about  the  same  in  regard  to  money 
spent  for  her  special  gratification.  She  was,  as  I 
said,  a  hard-working  woman,  year  in  and  year  out, 
as  any  woman  must  be  who  has  a  large  family  to 
attend  to,  and  a  dairy,  and  more  or  less  farm  hands 
to  board ;  but  I  remember  that  when  she  asked  him 
for  money  to  buy  her  a  dress,  or  a  pair  of  shoes,  she 


io6  A  Hired  Girl. 

asked  it  as  a  favor,  and  he  handed  it  out  as  if  he 
were  doing  her  a  favor. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  I  had  never  been  used  to 
seeing  men  show  just  such  kind  of  consideration 
for  their  wives,  that  the  few  words  John  said  made 
the  tears  come.  I  bent  down  over  the  baby,  and 
wiped  my  eyes  on  a  corner  of  its  little  bib;  but 
I  rather  think  John  saw  that  my  feelings  were 
touched,  for  he  said  nothing  more  just  then:  he 
walked  towards  the  window,  and  made  some  re- 
mark about  the  weather. 

But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  Katy  Bryan. 
There  were  no  young  girls  in  our  neighborhood 
who  would  live  out.  Our  young  girls  are  mostly 
in  a  hurry  to  get  something  to  do  in  the  city. 
There  are  two  or  three  of  them  there  now,  partly 
supported  by  charity,  who  might  earn  comfortable 
and  respectable  livings  if  they  would  come  back 
here  and  help  some  of  their  neighbors. 

Things  being  in  this  way,  John  went  to  Overton, 
and  brought  home  an  Irish  girl.  I  must  say,  that, 
before  she  came,  my  ideas  of  the  advantages  of 
keeping  help  were  different  from  what  they  were 
afterwartls.  Mrs.  Mosely  and  I  had  often  talked 
together  of  what  we  could  do  if  we  had  hired  girls. 
When  we  spoke  of  some  of  my  relations  in  Overton 


A  Hired  Girl.  107 

who  did  a  great  deal  for  the  poor  and  in  visiting 
the  sick,  we  always  said,  "  Oh !  all  that  is  easy 
enough  for  them ;  they  keep  help."  I  had  an  idea 
that  if  a  woman  kept  help,  she  would  only  need  to 
sit  down  and  give  out  her  orders,  and  then  every- 
thing would  go  on  like  clock-work.  John  had  that 
very  same  idea. 

Katy  Bryan  came  of  a  Thursday  morning,  just 
two  weeks  ago  to-day,  —  a  stout,  heavy  girl.  I 
mentioned  to  her  the  different  things  there  were  to 
do,  then  took  the  baby,  and  went  into  the  front 
room.  Soon  after  this,  happening  to  glance  towards 
the  kitchen,  I  saw  Katy  wiping  some  water  off  the 
oil-carpet  with  her  dish-towel !  I  could  hardly 
believe  my  own  eyes;  I  wouldn't  have  supposed 
there  was  a  woman  in  the  civilized  world  who 
would  do  such  a  thing.  I  should  as  soon  have 
thought  —  I  don't  know  what  I  shouldn't  as  soon 
have  thought !  And  the  longer  I  looked,  the  more 
I  was  amazed.  She  washed  the  plates  before  the 
cups  and  saucers  ;  she  strung  the  dishes  along  the 
buttery  shelves,  and  set  what  was  left  of  breakfast 
in  among  them,  and  then  swept  the  room  without 
shutting  the  buttery  door;  and,  in  sweeping,  she 
banged  away  at  the  mats  and  rugs,  and  made  such 
a  dust  you  could  hardly  see  across  the  room ! 


I08  A  Hired  Girl. 

All  through  the  forenoon,  whatever  she  under- 
took to  do  I  longed  to  take  hold  and  do  it  myself. 
And  she  went  about  any  little  job  —  as  peeling 
potatoes  and  the  like  —  as  if  she  had  all  day  for  it. 
She  did  hurry  some  in  setting  the  table ;  but  I  had 
to  rush  round  after  her,  and  straighten  the  table- 
cloth and  the  dishes ;  and  as  to  taking  up  the  vege- 
tables, and  slicing  the  cold  meat,  and  cutting  bread, 
why,  from  what  I  had  seen,  I  thought  my  appetite 
would  be  better  if  I  did  all  such  things  without  her 
help.  She  took  the  baby  into  the  front  room  to 
hold  while  we  ate  dinner,  but  I  was  so  afraid  she 
would  stand  him  on  his  head,  that  I  called  her  back 
with  him. 

My  cousin  Lou,  from  Overton,  happened  to  come 
and  see  me  that  evening.  I  told  her  I  was  almost 
discouraged ;  and  that  'twas  pretty  hard  to  look  on 
and  see  your  work  done  wrong  end  foremost,  and 
everything  out  of  place;  and  then  I  showed  her 
our  kerosene  lamp,  burning  with  a  three-cornered 
shape  flame  —  on  account  of  the  wick  having  been 
cut  up  into  a  peak  at  one  side  —  and  the  lamp  all 
oily. 

"  I  would  rather  do  my  work  myself,"  said  I. 

'•  Of  course,"  said  she.  "  Everybody  would,  but 
everybody  cannot ;  and  so  they  must  put  up  with 


A  Hired  Girl.  IC9 

the  next  best  thing.  You'll  get  on  all  right,  if 
she's  willing  to  be  told.  The  main  thing  is  to  have 
a  girl  willing  to  be  told." 

"  But  why  not  get  a  knowing  one  at  the  begin- 
ning ?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  would  have  to  pay  very  high  wages,"  said 
she ;  "  and  it  is  doubtful  if  one  of  that  kind  would 
come  to  this  little  country  place ;  and  besides,  they 
are  apt  to  be  set  in  their  ways,  and  huffy.  You 
have  to  handle  them  like  glass.  If  you  want  any 
particular  thing  cooked,  or  some  little  job  done,  or 
to  invite  company,  you  have  to  feel  around,  and 
see  if  'twill  do  to  mention  it." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  Katy  is  awkward  and  slow,  and 
is  slovenly  about  her  work.  Perhaps  I  could  get 
a  better  one  of  the  same  sort ;  I  mean  of  the  stupid 
sort.     What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  I  am  laughing  at  your  simple, 
child-like  faith  that  a  change  will  be  for  the  better. 
As  a  general  thing,  girls  differ  in  kind — that  is,  in 
their  kinds  of  faults  —  but  not  in  degree.  If  they 
are  quick,  they  slight  their  work  and  break  things ; 
if  they  are  slow,  they  never  get  anything  done.  If 
they  do  their  work  well  and  quick,  there  will  be 
something  else  wrong ;  they  will  waste ;  they  will 
wear  your  under-clothing,  or  cut  up  your  sheets. 


1 10  A  Hired  Girl. 

or  cany  your  provisions  to  their  relations,  or  get 
drunk,  or  stay  out  late  nights.  Don't  change.  As 
I  said  before,  if  Katy  is  willing  to  be  told,  keep 
her." 

Katy  has  been  here  a  week  now.  I  can't  imag- 
ine a  girl  any  more  willing  to  be  told.  I  "  tell "  all 
the  time,  and  it  doesn't  seem  to  put  her  out  of  her 
course  an  atom.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  there 
could  be  found  so  many  wrong  ways  of  doing 
things.  She  washes  the  windo\^s  with  the  baby's 
sponge,  and  scours  the  oil  carpet  with  sand.  She 
doesn't  iron  the  clothes  up  into  the  gathers,  and 
she  irons  the  starched  things  rough  dry.  She 
leaves  the  lamps  oily,  she  doesn't  screw  the  tops 
half  on,  and  she  cuts  the  wicks  in  all  shapes.  She 
puts  the  bed-spreads  on  with  their  stripes  running 
crossAvise  the  bed ;  she  gives  us  wet  dishes  to  eat 
from,  and  black  knives  to  eat  with ;  and  leaves  the 
pots  and  kettles  greasy,  and  dirt  in  the  corners  of 
the  room.  When  she  kneads  the  bread  —  which  I 
can't  bear  to  have  her  do — you'd  think  a  horse  was 
galloping  across  the  floor,  for  she  sets  the  dough- 
pan  in  a  chair  and  goes  at  it  with  such  might  that 
the  chair  travels  all  round  the  kitchen.  It  makes 
me  heartsick  to  go  over  the  house,  especially  into 
the  buttery.     The  food  she  spoils  and  wastes  would 


A  Hired  Girl.  Ill 

keep  a  boarder,  and  she's  a  very  hearty  eater.  She 
seems  to  handle  things  as  if  her  fingers  were  all 
thumbs,  or  as  if  she  used  the  backs  of  her  hands. 
In  washing  the  closet  shelves  she  broke  a  china 
bowl  that  my  great-grandfather  brought  home  from 
the  East  Indies.  When  she  moves  a  piece  of  fur- 
niture, she  goes  at  it  as  if  she  meant  to  shake  it  to 
pieces.  Several  bits  of  veneering  have  come  off, 
which  I  am  keeping  till  I  can  get  some  glue. 

I  don't  tell  John  much  about  these  matters,  but 
try  my  best  to  cover  up  her  shortcomings,  espe- 
cially in  the  cooking  line.  He  wonders  sometimes, 
why,  with  a  hired  girl  in  the  house,  I  am  on  my  feet 
80  much.  He  says  'tis  like  keeping  a  dog  and  bark- 
ing yourself.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  should  take  lots 
of  comfort  doing  my  work,  if  she  were  only  out  of 
the  house,  but  I  don't  like  to  say  so.  Lou  is  com- 
ing again  soon,  and  I'll  have  another  talk  with  her. 
I  shall  write  again  in  a  week  or  two,  so  that  you 
may  know  the  end  of  the  story.     .     .     . 


XIV. 

LOOKING   ON   BOTH   SmES.  —  MRS.   LAMMERKIN's 

second  letter. 

My  dear  Cousin: 

I  told  you  I  would  write  again  about  our  hired 
girl.  She  has  gone.  I  did  not  feel  able  to  bear 
the  trial  of  her  any  longer.  I  got  heart-sick  of  let- 
ting the  work  be  done  after  her  slovenly  fashion. 
And  in  the  cooking  there  was  no  dependence  to 
be  placed  upon  her.  She  might  attend  to  what 
was  in  the  oven,  or  over  the  fire,  and  she  might 
not.  It  keeps  your  mind  in  a  continual  turmoil  to 
live  in  this  sort  of  anxiety,  and  to  feel  that  your 
house  is  out  of  order  all  over,  and  to  see  everyi;hing 
going  wrong.  When  she  was  fairly  gone  with  all 
her  duds,  I  felt  light  as  a  bird.  I  went  at  the 
buttery,  setting  that  to  rights,  before  she  was  fairly 
out  of  sight.  Cousin  Lou  came  next  evening.  She 
was  surprised  to  find  Katy  gone. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  didn't  have  patience  with  her," 
said  she. 

Hi 


Looking  on  Both  Sides.  1 1 3 

I  laughed,  and  said  that  patience  wasn't  what  I 
wanted.     I  wanted  my  work  done,  and  well  done. 

"But  with  patience  you  might  have  taught  her," 
said  she. 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  and  then  she  would  have  left  me. 
John  heard  her  tell  her  brother  that  when  she  had 
learned  something  about  cooking  she  should  make 
a  change,  and  go  where  she  could  get  higher  wages, 
and  where  there  was  a  church." 

Lou  thought  a  minute,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Well,  even  in  that,  she  is  like  the  rest  of  us ; 
we  aU  '  make  a  change '  when  we  can  better  our- 
selves. This  matter  of  '  help '  is  a  hard  matter ; 
still,  in  many  cases,  if  the  woman  had  patience, 
and  took  pains  to  teach,  and  tried  to  lighten  the 
work,  and  made  allowance  for  mistakes,  and  knew 
how  to  correct  them,  and  how  to  cover  up  defi- 
ciencies, why,  things  would  go  on  pretty  decently 
smoothly. 

"  The  truth  is,  this  is  a  two-sided  affair,  and  the 
fault  isn't  all  on  one  of  the  sides.  There  are  girls 
that  no  mistress  could  ever  get  on  with,  and  there 
are  mistresses  that  no  girl  could  ever  get  on  with. 
We  have  a  neighbor  who  has  no  more  consideration 
for  a  hired  girl  than  she  would  have  for  a  machine. 
The  work  is  just  piled  on,  as  you  may  say,  and 


114  Looking  on  Both  Sides. 

without  any  thought  at  all  for  the  person  under- 
neath !  And  then  there  is  what  I  call  the  aloof- 
ness. This  woman  seems  to  hold  herself  aloof 
from  her  girls,  looks  down  upon  them,  speaks  to 
them  in  a  lofty,  frigid  sort  of  manner,  as  if  she  and 
they  belonged  to  two  species  entirely  distinct  from 
each  other;  whereas,  hired  girls  have  bones  that 
can  ache,  patience  that  can  wear  out,  and  feehngs 
to  be  touched  by  sympathy  and  kindness  and  con- 
sideration, the  same  as  the  rest  of  us.  You  see,  we 
can't  help  it.  We  are  all  human  beings,  and  we 
can't  any  of  us  be  anything  else.  The  flesh,  and 
blood,  and  bones,  and  muscles  of  duchesses  and  of 
kitchen  girls  are  made  of  just  the  same  kinds  of 
phosphorus,  and  iron,  and  oxygen,  and  hydrogen, 
and  all  those  horrid  chemical  things  that  1  can 
never  bear  the  sound  of;  both  have  the  same  affec- 
tions, and  both  are  liable  to  the  same  sorrows.  No 
doubt  there  are  some  who  would  like  to  help  it. 
I've  seen  people  who  seemed  as  if  they  thought  it 
a  pity  there  hadn't  been  a  class  created  here  a  little 
above  human  beings,  with  different  flesh  and  blood, 
and  so  forth,  different  sensations,  different  hearts, 
different  souls,  and  a  different  heaven  in  prospect. 
Anyway,  I'm  glad  you've  had  this  little  experience." 
"Why  so?"  I  asked. 


Looking  on  Both  Sides.  1 1 5 

"Oh!  because  it  is  well  for  people  to  see  the 
general  evenness  of  tilings.  I  have  heard  won^n 
who  live  in  the  country  and  do  their  own  work, 
say  of  some  wealthy  city  woman,  — '  Oh !  she  lives 
an  easy  life,  with  servants  at  her  beck  and  call.' 
These  poorer  women  can  see  that  the  richer  woman 
does  not  wash  dishes  and  sweep  floors,  but  they  can't 
know  the  trouble  she  has  in  teaching  and  manag- 
ing, and  in  overseeing  her  servants,  and  in  keepmg 
peace  between  them.  Then,  again,  more  is  ex- 
pected of  her  in  various  ways.  Having  had  this 
experience  with  one  girl,  you  can  understand  that 
a  woman  with  two  may  have  a  dinner  spoiled,  or 
her  beds  ill  made.  But  her  husband  might  not 
understand.  He  would  say,  perhaps,  as  I  have 
heard  one  say :  '  My  dear,  1  don't  understand  how 
it  is,  that  with  two  servants  in  the  house  every- 
thing should  not  be  well  done.'  It  is  very  plam  to 
you,  now,  that  the  fact  of  there  being  two  servants 
in  the  house  would  not  insure  everything  should 
be  well  done  in  that  house,  or  that  the  mistress 
should  live  at  her  ease.  It  is  plain,  I  think,  that 
the  richer  woman  has  her  perplexities  and  anxieties, 
as  well  as  the  poorer  one.  We  might  see  it  even 
more  plainly  if  we  were  familiar  with  her  daily  life 
and  the  duties  which  belong  to  it ;  that  is,  if  we 


Il6  Looking  on  Both  Sides. 

could  look  on  both  sides,  up  and  down.  This  is 
what  I  mean  by  the  evenness  of  things." 

"While  we  were  talking,  John  was  stepping  in 
and  out,  doing  his  chores,  and  saying  now  and  then 
a  word.  At  last,  when  he  was  taking  off  his  boots 
and  getting  into  his  slippers,  he  came  out  with  this 
question :  — 

"  Now,  I  should  like  to  know  what  the  reason  is 
that  a  woman  can't  get  another  woman  that  can  do 
her  work  for  her ;  a  man  can  always  get  another 
man  that  can  do  his  work  for  him." 

"  One  reason  is,"  said  Lou,  "  that  woman's  work 
is  divided  into  a  great  many  kinds,  all  of  which  are 
to  be  done  by  one  person.  Some  people  —  espe- 
cially some  men  —  seem  to  think  that  because  a 
woman  is  a  woman,  she  must  know  how  to  do  every 
single  one  of  these.  But  such  knowledge  isn't  born 
with  a  woman ;  she  has  to  learn  how.  Now  if  help 
have  not  learned  how — and  few  of  them  have — how 
can  they  do?  But  what  I  want  to  come  at  now  is, 
the  variety,  the  innumerable  branches,  of  indoors 
labor.  You  speak  of  hiring  a  man  to  do  your  work. 
Men  is  the  correct  word.  If  you  want  your  trees 
pruned,  or  your  fence  painted,  or*  your  grass  mowed, 
or  a  stone  wall  built,  or  butchering  done,  or  your 
cart  mended,  or  a  wheelbarrow  made,  or  your  straw- 


Looking  on  Both  Sides.  wj 

berries  picked,  or  a  harness  repaired,  you  get  a  dif- 
ferent person  for  each  employment.  And  another 
thing,  the  greater  part  of  these  have  been  trained 
to  their  employments. 

"  And  seeing  we  are  on  this  subject,"  said  Lou, 
"  I  want  to  say  where  I  think  a  mistake  is  made. 
Speaking  within  bounds,  I  suppose  there  are  fifty 
branches  of  employment  which  come  under  the 
name  of  general  housework;  reckon  them  up,  and 
see  if  it  isn't  so.  Then  there  are  the  making,  and 
mending,  and  cutting  out.  Many  women  who  do 
their  own  work,  cut  and  make  their  husbands'  and 
children's  clothes.  Now,  I  think  the  mistake  is 
just  here ;  namely,  in  taking  it  for  granted,  that  be- 
cause all  these  kinds  of  work  are  '  woman's  work,' 
one  woman  must  do  them  all.  Here  the  doctrine 
of  *  both  sides '  comes  in  again.  I  know  there  are 
wives  who  neglect  their  work ;  and,  pi*ay,  don't 
understand  me  as  blaming  husbands,  or  as  making 
them  out  to  be  bad.  It  is  no  more  than  natural 
that  they  should  fall  in  with  the  general  way  of 
thinking.  They  don't  know  that  woman's  work 
demands  intelligence,  and  skill,  and  patience,  and 
endurance,  and  that  it  never  lets  up.  Neither  do 
they  know  how  exhausting  it  is,  nor  that  a  woman 
needs  outdoors  air.     Bad?     No,  indeed.     I  never 


ii8  Looking  on  Both  Sides. 


X 


had  a  husband ;  still,  so  far  as  my  observation 
goes,  they  are  a  good-hearted  race  —  but  awfully 
ignorant ! " 

John  laughed,  and  said,  "  Well,  here  is  one  all 
ready  to  be  instructed.  Are  you  ready  for  the 
question  ?  How  shall  we  manage  matters  in  this 
family,  so  as  to  make  things  easier  for  Elinor  ?  " 

I  will  tell  you  the  rest  of  the  talk  in  my  next 
letter.     .    .    . 


XV. 

LIGHTEiraifG  THE  LOAD. 

MKS.   LA]VIMERKIN's    THIRD    LETTER,   GIVING    THE 

EXPERIENCE   OF   A  NEIGHBOR. 

.  .  .  "In  the  first  place,"  said  Mrs.  Bent,  "we 
fixed  ourselves  firmly  upon  this  ground:  namely, 
that  in  household  affairs  welfare  shall  not  be  sacri- 
ficed to  unnecessary  work. 

"  We  were  sure  of  our  principle  ;  the  next  ques- 
tion was :  How  to  apply  it  ?  We  ciphered  our  way 
out  of  at  least  a  part  of  the  difficulty  by  the  rules 
of  reduction  and  co-operation. 

"  The  first,  reduction,  we  stumbled  upon  in  this 
way :  One  day  a  load  of  stone  was  stopped  in  front 
of  our  house.  The  driver  yelled  at  the  horse,  and 
lashed,  and  swore ;  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  the 
very  simple  reason  that  there  was  more  load  than 
there  was  power  to  pull  it.  At  last,  he  rolled  off 
a  few  of  the  stones,  and  then  the  horse  went  ahead. 
*  There  I '  cried  my  husband,  '  why  don't  we  do 

"9 


I20  Lightening  the  Load. 

that  way?  If  your  strength  doesn't  match  the 
work,  make  the  work  match  your  strength.  Roll 
off  a  few  stones.  There  can't  be  a  more  common- 
sensible  way  than  that.' 

"Yes,"  said  I.  *^  But  which  stones  ?  What  part 
of  the  work  can  be  left  out  ? 

" '  What  cannot  be  left  out  ?  Perhaps  it  will  be 
better  to  take  hold  of  that  end  first,'  said  he,  '  and 
decide  what  parts  are  the  most  essential  parts.' 

"  The  washing  and  ironing,  to  begin  with,"  said  I. 

" '  The  washing,  yes,'  said  he.  '  Cleanliness  is  an 
essential  part;  but  is  it  absolutely  necessary  that 
every  inch  of  cloth  in  the  weekly  wash  should  be 
rubbed  with  a  heavy  flatiron  ?  Can  there  not  be  a 
stone  thrown  off  here  ? ' 

"  Not  iron  the  clothes  ?  "  I  cried.  "  Why,  im- 
agine Laura  and  myself  with  our  dresses  and 
aprons  beds  of  wrinkles ;  and  your  shirt-bosoms 
the  same !  We  can't  give  up  appearances  alto- 
gether, in  this  stone-rolling ! " 

"'No,  indeed,'  said  he.  'We  must  all  look  well, 
and  80  must  our  rooms,  and  our  table.  I  believe 
in  all  that ;  but  can't  you  save  on  the  sheets  and 
the  underclothing ! ' 

"Oh!  no,  indeed,"  said  I.  "Think  how  they 
would  look  on  the  '  horse '  \     My  mother  brought 


Lightening  the  Load.  121 

me  up  to  be  particular,  and  not  to  slight.  She  her- 
self never  slighted.  Every  garment  was  ironed 
way  up  into  the  gathers,  and  every  sheet  and  towel 
was  ironed  all  over,  just  as  smooth  as  glass.  To 
be  sure,  she  wasn't  a  well  woman.  But  that  was 
why  she  got  so  much  praise.  People  said :  '  How 
beautifully  her  clothes  look  on  the  horse,  —  and 
she  so  feeble ! ' 

"'But  that's  making  the  wrong  thing  promi- 
nent,' said  husband.  'The  question  is  not.  Will 
these  things  look  well  on  the  horse?  but,  Is  this 
woman  able  to  do  this  work  ?  If  you  put  in  oppo- 
sition wrinkled  clothes  with  smooth  clothes,  why, 
of  course  every  one  would  choose  the  latter ;  but 
if  you  put  into  opposition  with  each  other  wrinkled 
clothes  and  an  overworked  woman,  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  every  one  would  choose  the  former. 
We  must  keep  the  right  thing  prominent.' 

"It  was  some  time  before  I  could  roll  off  this 
stone  with  a  clear  conscience.  In  my  mother's 
family  the  precept  'Have  your  clothes  look  well 
on  the  horse,'  was  considered  almost  as  sacred  as 
the  moral  law.  But  I  saw  that  I  could  never  be 
what  I  ought  to  be  to  my  husband,  children,  or 
even  to  myself,  unless  the  work  could  be  lessened ; 
so  that,  after  all,  the  .forsaking  of  this  time-honored 


122  Lightening  the  Load. 

precept  was  but  choosing  between  duties,  and 
choosing  the  higher.  We  had  a  proper  regard  for 
appearances.  Of  course  such  tilings  as  dresses, 
aprons,  cuffs  and  collars,  shirt-bosoms  and  pillow- 
cases, were  ironed  nicely.  But  I  found  that  on 
underclothing,  towels  and  sheets,  there  might  be  a 
deal  of  ironing  left  undone,  and  the  heavens  not 
fall  in  consequence ;  and,  moreover,  that  after 
the  article  had  been  worn  or  used  five  minutes,  the 
difference  was  not  noticeable.  I  found  that  a 
slight  rub  with  my  two  hands  would  remove  most 
of  the  roughness ;  so  whenever  the  case  allowed,  I 
just  gave  the  things  a  shake  and  a  rub  and  a  fold : 
aired  them  well,  shut  my  eyes,  and  laid  them  away. 
Some  of  them  I  ironed  a  little,  say,  on  one  side,- or 
at  the  bottom,  or  at  the  top,  or  just  gave  them 
a  dab,  as  I  folded  them.  Some  women  say  that 
clothes  seem  more  wholesome  with  the  sunshine 
and  outdoors  not  ironed  out  of  them ;  and  we  all 
know  that  flannels  are  not  so  flannelly  after  being 
ironed." 

"So  you  had  to  shut  your  eyes  at  first,"  said 
Lou. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bent ;  "  I  felt  so  ashamed,  you 
would  have  thought  I  was  breaking  all  the  Ten 
Commandments.     But  the^  feelings  don't  trouble 


Lightening  the  Load.  123 

me  a  bit,  now.  If  I'm  troubled  at  all,  it  is  that  I 
have  laid  out  so  much  strength  at  the  ironing- 
table." 

"On  tucked  and  ruffled  white  skirts,  for  in- 
stance," said  Lou. 

Mrs.  Bent  turned  her  head  and  held  up  both 
hands,  as  if  to  ward  off  something  about  to  fall 
upon  her.  "  Don't  mention  them !  They  are  a 
snare  and  a  delusion  —  time-traps.  Oh !  how  I 
have  toiled  over  their  tucks,  and  ruffles,  and  em- 
broideries. And  infants'  and  small  children's  white 
dresses !  We  live  near  the  centre  of  the  town. 
People  there  think  a  great  deal  of  dress.  Mothers 
keep  their  children  in  white,  say,  for  the  first  two 
or  three  years,  because  '  they  look  so  much  prettier 
in  white,'  and  because  such  is  the  custom  among 
wealthy  people.  A  woman  who  has  money  enough 
to  hire  servants  enough  to  wash  dresses  enough  for 
a  clean  one  to  be  afforded  every  day,  keeps  her 
child  in  white,  and,  therefore,  the  woman  who  has 
no  servant  tries  to  do  so,  too,  at  whatever  outlaj^  of 
strength  and  time.  It  is  only  a  servile  following. 
If  the  rich  people's  children  left  off  white,  their 
children  would  leave  off  white." 

"  Still,  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  act  partly 
from  good  motives,"  said  Lou.     "They  act  from 


124  Lightejiing  the  Load. 

mother-love.  They  are  willing  to  tire  themselves, 
to  use  themselves  up.  It  is  a  kind  of  self-sacrifice, 
after  all." 

"  But  you  know  we  have  decided  that  if  there 
must  be  a  sacrifice,  it  shall  be  for  worthier  objects," 
said  Mrs.  Bent.  Let  them  give  up  doing  these 
things  for  their  children,  in  order  that  they  may 
do  better  things  for  those  children.  Such  as  read- 
ing, talking,  walking  with,  them  —  especially  walk- 
ing the  woods  and  fields ;  such  as  getting  light  on 
matters  connected  with  their  proper  training." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Lou,  "that  you  ciphered  out 
more  than  one  sum  in  the  rule  of  reduction  ?  " 

"  O,  yes ! "  said  Mrs.  Bent.  "  We  gave  up  light- 
colored  paint;  and  had  our  doors  grained.  And 
we  got  plated  knives.  These  saved  work,  and 
hard  work ;  and  we  had  longer  intervals  between 
the  regular  cleaning  times.  And  I  did  some  pretty 
smart  ciphering  in  the  sewing  problem.  I  bought 
for  the  children  and  myself  to  wear  good  materials, 
but  made  them  up  in  simple  ways,  —  not  homely, 
by  any  means.  They  were  tasteful,  but  simple. 
By  carrying  this  idea  all  the  way  through,  from 
underclothing  to  outside  garments  inclusive,  a 
pretty  large  stone  was  thrown  off  my  load ;  for  the 
change  affected  the  washing,  as  well  as  the  sewing. 


Lightening  the  Load.  125 

In  this  matter  of  clothes,  I  induced  some  of  my 
neighbors  to  agree  with  me  in  the  idea  of  dressing 
our  childi'en  simply.  They  were  glad  enough  to 
fall  in  with  the  plan.  If  several  unite  in  this,  no 
child  need  feel  herself  peculiar.  And  you  should 
have  seen  the  reducing  we  did  in  the  cooking. 
You  should  have  seen  the  stones  roll  off  there ! 
Pies  went  first.  We  used  to  have  them  on  the 
supper  table  every  night.  Dear !  but  weren't  they 
a  big  stone  off  ?  Think  of  the  paring,  and  slicing, 
and  chopping,  and  stirring,  and  rolling,  and  tend- 
ing them  in  the  oven.  Husband  said  it  was  folly 
for  me  to  spend  myself  so ;  that  he  always  satisfied 
his  hunger  with  the  first  things,  and  ate  the  pie 
and  cake  after  he  was  satisfied.  So  cake  and 
doughnuts  went  too,  and  then  went  regular  des- 
serts. Husband  came  out  again  with  his  satisfac- 
tion theory,  and  declared,  honor  bright,  that  he 
always  satisfied  his  hunger  with  the  first  course ; 
that  the  other  was  only  a  palate-pleaser,  and  that 
if  he  really  needed  anything  more  than  the  first 
course  he  could  eat  baked  apples,  or  sauce,  or 
bread  and  syrup,  or  raw  fruit,  or  whatever  we  hap- 
pened to  have.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  we  never 
make  a  bit  of  cake  or  a  puddhig,  in  fact,  we  do 
often  have  plain  cake,  or  gingerbread,  and  occa- 


126  Lightening  the  Load. 

sionally,  to  help  make  out,  a  pudding.  But  they 
are  not  counted  in  among  the  must  haves.  I  have 
escaped  from  their  tyranny.  If  there's  no  cake  in 
the  house,  I  don't  feel  myself  to  be  a  shamed  and 
sinful  creature,  as  I  used  to." 

I  asked  her  if  they  did  not  get  tired  of  eating 
the  same  few  things  over  and  over. 

"  My  dear  woman,"  said  she,  "  there's  no  lack  of 
variety.  Think  of  all  the  vegetables,  all  the  meats, 
all  the  fruits,  all  the  grains ! " 


XVI. 

"many  hands  make  light  woek."  —  mrs. 
bent's  explanation  concluded. 

"  When  we  began  to  consider  this  matter  of  co- 
operation," said  Mrs.  Bent,  "  my  Laura  was  in  her 
thirteenth  year,  Fred  was  ten,  Harry  five,  and 
Nannie  two.  One  day  my  husband  came  in  unex- 
pectedly, and  found  me  crying.  It  was  an  hour  or 
so  after  dinner;  I  had  worked  hard  all  the  fore- 
noon, ironing  Laura's  dresses,  cutting  out  clothes 
for  Fred,  and  doing  various  other  things.  Laura 
made  excuses  for  not  helping  me  with  the  dinner 
dishes,  and  finally  went  about  the  work  sulkily; 
and  so  I  told  her  she  might  leave  it.  Then  Fred 
went  off,  without  doing  his  chores,  knowing  that  I 
should  have  to  do  them  myself.  Husband  asked 
me  so  very  anxiously  what  was  the  matter,  that  I 
wiped  up  in  a  hurry,  and  began  to  laugh,  and  said 
the  matter  was,  that  I  was  a  foolish  little  woman 
to  expect  consideration  from  cliildren;  and  then 
went  on  to  tell  my  troubles." 
127 


128       "Many  Hands  Make  Light   Worky 

He  thought  awhile,  and  at  last  said :  "  The  chil- 
dren now  consider  their  work  as  an  outside  task, 
that  is,  as  something  in  which  they  have  no  per- 
sonal concern.  I  wonder  if  they  can't  be  made  to 
feel  that  it  belongs  to  them?" 

"He  touched  the  right  spot  there,"  said  Lou. 
"In  most  families,  'the  work,'  no  matter  how  much 
there  may  be,  is  thought  to  belong  to  the  mother. 
When  the  children  or  others  do  any  part  of  it  they 
are  '  helping  mother*' " 

"  Husband  proposed,"  said  Mrs.  Bent,  "  that  cer- 
tain portions  of  'the  work,'  should  be  taken  off  my 
shoulders  and  distributed  around." 

"  This  co-operation  rule  has  a  good  sound,"  said 
I ;  "but  how  did  you  act  it  out?  And  did  things 
run  smoothly  forever  after  that?" 

"  Now  don't  understand  me  as  claiming  too 
much,"  said  Mrs.  Bent.  "  In  this  imperfect  life, 
with  imperfect  fathers  and  mothers  and  imperfect 
children,  we  can't  expect  perfect  smoothness.  Very 
likely  others  may  succeed  better  than  we.  I'll  tell 
you  how  we  began,  or  how  husband  began.  One 
evening  I  went  over  to  mother's  of  an  errand,  leav- 
ing him  with  the  children.  After  Laura  had  fin- 
ished her  examples  and  had  begun  scribbling  on 
her  slate,  her  father  asked  her  to  write  down  all  the 


"Many  Hands  Make  Light   Work."       129 

different  things  I  had  to  do  in  the  different  days  of 
the  week,  leaving  out  Sunday.  She  began  to  write, 
her  father  and  Fred  prompting  when  her  memory 
failed.  The  list  covered  both  sides.  Husband 
wrote  at  the  beginning,  for  a  title,  — '  Mother's 
Work,'  then  remarked  that  it  was  a  good  deal  of 
work  for  one  person. 

"  '  I  help  her  some,'  said  Laura. 

"'Yes,'  said  he,  'I  suppose  you  call  what  you 
do,  helping  her ;  and  that  Fred  calls  what  he  does, 
helping  her;  but,  after  all,  you  are  only  helping 
yourselves.  Mother  eats  a  small  part  of  the  food 
she  cooks,  and  wears  a  small  part  of  the  clothes 
she  makes  and  washes  and  irons  and  mends.  So 
all  this  work  is  not  really  here,  but  only  hers  to 
do.'  Then  he  rubbed  out  the  title,  and  wrote  in 
in  its  place,  '  The  Family's  Work,'  which  is  called 
'Mother's  Work.' 

" '  Now  I  should  like  to  know,'  said  he,  '  why 
members  of  the  family  consider  it  as  a  favor  to  the 
mother  when  they  do  parts  of  their  own  work? 
For  instance,  I  have  noticed  that  to  get  a  meal, 
and  clear  it  away,  there  must  be  wood  and  water 
brought,  vegetables  got  and  cleaned  and  cooked, 
other  things  cooked,  the  table  set,  dishes  washed, 
knives  scoured,  and  some  tidying  up  of  the  room 


I30       ''Many  Hands  Make  Light   Work." 

done  afterwards.  Now  it  doesn't  seem  right  for 
one  person  to  do  all  this  labor,  and  for  other  per- 
sons to  feel  that  their  part  is  only  the  eatmg  part. 
This  isn't  fair  play.  And  speaking  of .  parts,'  said 
he,  'boys  and  girls  seem  to  think  it  is  their  part  to 
run  about  and  have  a  good  time,  and  their  mother's 
part  to  stay  in  the  house  and  work.  This  doesn't 
seem  fau'  play,  either.  Mothers  like  to  have  good 
times  as  well  as  children.  They  like  to  be  out- 
doors ;  like  to  go  to  see  their  friends ;  to  go  to 
meetings  and  lectures,  and  picnics,  and  tea-parties.' 

"  Husband  said  he  knew  this  was  rather  serious 
talk  for  the  children,  but  he  saw  no  reason  why 
they  should  not  sometimes  listen  to  serious  talk, 
as  they  were  entering  upon  life,  and  life  is  a  seri- 
ous business.  Besides,  in  order  to  make  the  right 
thing  prominent,  he  was  obliged  to  talk  seriously. 
He  went  even  farther  in  this  direction.  He  spoke 
of  my  long  days  spent  in  the  house,  working  every 
minute;  and,  said  he,  'Now  if  we  want  to  keep 
her  with  us,  and  keep  her  from  suffering  pain  and 
sickness,  we  must  take  extra  care  of  lier ;  we  must 
not  let  her  work  too  hard,  and  we  must  send  her 
out-doors  now  and  then,  or  send  her  a-visiting,  or 
off  on  a  little  trip  somewhere.' 

"This  talk  of  husband's  had  quite  an  effect  upon 


*' Many  Hands  Make  Light   IVork^       131 

the  children.  It  set  them  thinking ;  they  seemed 
to  undei-stand,  better  than  before,  why  they  were 
expected  to  take  certain  parts  of  the  work  upon 
themselves,  and  the  necessity  —  and  the  justice  — 
of  their  doing  so.  They  wanted  to  help  on  my 
account.  We  talked  the  matter  over  with  them, 
and  settled  what  Laura  should  do,  and  what  Fred 
should  do,  and  even  what  Harry  should  do.  I 
gave  Fred  some  of  the  indoors  work,  such  as  scour- 
ing knives  and  setting  his  own  bed  to  airing,  and 
gave  Laura  same  of  the  errand  doing,  because  boys 
get  plenty  of  out-doore  air,  and  girls  very  little. 

"  I  asked  how  she  could  bear  to  have  her  children 
work  so  hard. 

" '  Why,'  said  she,  '  they  did  not  work  so  very 
much  harder  than  before,  but  the  labor  of  getting 
them  to  do  the  work  was  to  a  great  degree  taken 
off  my  shoulders.  They  understood  that  certain 
parts  of  it  were  their  own,  and  not  parts  of  mine 
wliich  they  did  —  by  coaxing,  or  bribing  or  threat- 
ening—  as  a  favor  to  me.' 

"There  is  no  need  of  going  into  particulars;  you 
know  what  house  duties  would  naturally  fall  to  a 
schoolgirl.  The  cooking  was  of  course  my  work ; 
but  bringing  wood  and  water  for  the  cooking  was 
Fred's  work.     Every  morning  he   filled   up  with 


132       **  Many  Hands  Make  Light   Work!' 

water  a  barrel  which  stood  in  the  porch.  Harry 
helped,  with  his  little  pail,  and  helped  some  on  the 
wood  and  chips.  As  I  said  at  the  beginning,  every- 
thing did  not  go  on  with  perfect  smoothness ;  there 
were  occasional  jars,  and  altercations,  and  forget- 
tings,  and  shirkings ;  but  there  was  very  much  less 
worry  than  before  —  less  fuss,  less  friction. 

"  The  first  time  Fred  forgot  to  fill  the  water  barrel, 
his  father  asked  him  if  he  didn't  think  that,  as  that 
was  his  work,  which,  if  neglected,  came  upon  me, 
there  ought  to  be  a  plan  contrived  of  making 
him  remember?  Fred  seemed  rather  doubtful ;  but 
finally  said  that  he  supposed  so ;  and  it  wiis  decided 
between  them  that  it  would  be  the  fair  thing  if  for 
every  forgetting  there  should  be  a  pretty  long  stay- 
ing in-doors.  There  were  not  many  forgettings 
after  that.  A  system  of  this  kind  is,  as  we  may 
say,  self-acting :  you  don't  have  to  attend  sepa- 
rately to  every  little  bobbin,  spool  and  spindle,  of 
the  household  machinery  —  you  work  them  from  a 
distance. 

"Of  couree,  it  made  a  great  difference  having 
husband  take  hold  of  this  thing :  children  are  too 
young  to  consider,  and  mothers  do  not  like  to  be 
always  complaining  that  they  are  not  able  to  do 
this,  that,  or  the  other ;  but  when  the  childi'eu  see 


"Many  Hands  Make  Light   Work.''       133 

that  father  thinks  mother's  overwork,  her  constant 
confinement,  are  serious  matters,  why,  they  begin 
to  think  so  too. 

"  One  thing  I  reasoned  out  wholly  by  myself.  I 
saw  that  it  was  hard  to  bring  childi'en  into  habits 
of  regular  work,  —  to  '  break  them  in.'  It  seemed 
to  me  that  if  they  could  be  made  to  grow  up  into 
such  habits,  this  difficulty  would  be  very  much 
lessened.  So  I  began  with  my  little  two-year-old 
Nannie,  and  let  her  do  some  trifling  things  at  stated 
times.  For  instance,  just  before  a  meal,  she  carried 
her  playthings  back  to  the  place  where  they  were 
kept ;  when  the  meal  was  over,  she  put  the  napkins 
in  the  table-drawer;  when  the  dishes  were  being 
washed,  she  laid  a  few  of  the  spoons  on  the  buttery- 
shelf.  As  she  grew  older,  other  things  were  added, 
as  setting  back  the  chairs  after  a  meal,  and  setting 
them  in  place  for  a  meal,  laying  the  napkins  round, 
and  so  forth.  Ways  of  carrying  out  this  idea  will 
suggest  themselves  to  almost  any  mother;  the 
whole  object  being  that  a  stated  duty,  no  matter 
how  trifling,  is  done  at  a  stated  time.  This  kind 
of  training  involves  some  trouble ;  still  it  pays  in 
the  end,  as  I  can  testify.  But  there  must  be  per- 
sistency at  the  beginning :  no  letting  up,  never  a 
single  giving  way.     Wlien  this  irrevocableness  is 


134       ''Many  Hands  Make  Light   Work.*' 

once  felt  by  the  child  it  submits  to  it,  and  then  this 
whole  thing  runs  itself,  as  we  may  say.  The  bene- 
ficial effect  upon  character  of  tliis  habit  of  work, 
this  regularity,  is  by  no  means  a  small  considei"a- 
tion. 

"Some  mothers  have  a  different  opinion  of  these 
matters :  they  say  of  their  children,  '  Poor  things  I 
they  will  have  hard  work  enough  by  and  by !  Let 
them  take  comfort  while  they  can ! '  I  think  this 
is  a  mistaken  kindness.  I  tliink  it  would  be  better 
reasoning  to  saj,  '  Poor  things !  they  will  have 
hard  work  enough  by  and  by !  It  will  be  too  bad 
to  let  it  come  upon  them  all  at  once  I '  And  this 
applies  to  the  upper  as  well  as  to  the  lower  classes ; 
for  even  children  born  to  wealth  will  never  amount 
to  anything  unless  they  accomplish  something 
worth  living  for,  and  to  do  this  requires  hard  work 
of  some  kind,  and  regular  habits  of  work. 

"  But  we  had  other  co-operation.  On  Mondays, 
if  no  washwoman  could  be  had,  husband  hired  a 
boy,  or  even  a  man,  to  turn  the  washing-machine,  or 
pound  out  the  clothes ;  and  he  himself  sometimes 
hung  them  out  —  always  took  them  in.  And  he 
helped  me  a  very  great  deal  in  another  way.  Be- 
fore, whenever  we  were  out  of  anything,  I  had  to 
bear  it  in  mind,  and  rememljer  to  tell  him.     He 


''Many  Hands  Make  Light   Wo7'ky       135 

would  usually  say,  'Remind  me  of  it,  the  last 
thing  before  I  leave  the  house.'  Then  I  would 
bear  it  in  mind  again,  through  thick  and  thin; 
watch  for  his  final  departure,  tell  him  once  or 
twice  —  on  a  false  alarm  —  before  this  finality  hap- 
pened, and  drop  everything  and  run  to  shout  after 
him  from  door  or  window,  if  it  happened  suddenly. 
The  errand  was  mine,  and  not  his ;  and  if  he  re- 
membered it,  there  was  a  sort  of  feeling  on  both 
sides  that  he  deserved  a  little  praise.  When  we 
were  planning  how  a  stone  could  be  rolled  off  here, 
and  another  there,  I  said  it  would  be  one  big  stone 
off,  if  I  could  have  everything  that  was  needed  in 
the  house  always  at  hand  without  care  or  fore- 
thought on  my  part.  He  said  he  would  gladly 
take  that  stone  on  his  own  shoulders,  but  how 
should  he  know  when  I  was  out  of  anything  ?  We 
pranged  it  in  this  way :  We  kept  a  blank-book 
hanging  at  the  porch  door.  Whenever  I  found 
that  we  should  soon  need  some  article,  I  wrote  its 
name  there,  and  had  no  care  about  it  ever  after. 
It  was  his  affair  then,  not  mine.  He  looked  at  the 
book  *  the  last  thing,'  tore  off  the  list  and  put  it 
in  his  pocket.  He  had  no  more  to  do  than  he  had 
before,  and  I  was  saved  the  continual  bearing  in 
mind.     Another  way  in  which  he  co-operated  was 


136       ''Many  Hauds  Make  Light   Work." 

by  seeing  that  I  had  conveniences  for  doing  the 
work.  He  raised  the  porch  floor  so  that  I  didn't 
have  to  step  up  into  the  kitchen.  Nobody  can 
tell  the  relief  this  was  to  me." 

''  I  suppose,"  said  Lou,  "  there  are  a  great  many 
huabands  who  would  have  as  much  consideration 
for  their  wives  as  yours  had  for  you,  if  they  only 
knew  it  was  needed." 

"  Some  wives  couldn't  stand  so  much  considera- 
tion," said  I,  "it  would  make  them  lazy.  They 
would  depend  too  much  on  their  husbands." 

"  A  few,  doubtless,"  said  Mrs.  Bent,  "  but  their 
number  is  small  compared  with  the  hosts  of  over- 
worked women  who  really  need  consideration  either 
from  themselves  or  from  others.  I  say  *from  them- 
selves,' because  some  women  are  so  foolish,  so  ig- 
norant of  what  they  might  be  and  should  be  to 
their  families,  that  they  will  overwork  and  nobody 
can  stop  them.  But  they,  as  well  as  the  others, 
would  be  benefited  by  learning  to  cipher  in  the 
rules  of  Reduction  and  Co-operation." 


XVII. 

HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  —  A  PAPER  READ  AT  ONE 
OF  THE  BYBURY  GATHERINGS. 

HUSBAND  (^solus).  —  As  wives  belong  to  the  in- 
jured class,  —  namely,  women,  —  they  will  always 
find  somebody  to  sjonpathize  with  them,  and  pity 
them,  and  weep  for  them ;  but  who  is  going  to 
sympathize  with  us  husbands,  and  pity  us,  and 
weep  for  us  ? 

Another  thing  which  pertains  to  the  injured  class 
is  —  rights.  Now,  man,  single  and  alone,  has  of 
course  no  rights  in  own  right ;  yet,  when  he  forms 
a  matrimonial  partnership  with  one  of  the  injured 
class,  should  he  not  share  in  the  privileges  of  that 
class,  and  have,  by  virtue  of  his  position,  "  rights  "  ? 
As  nobody  is  Hkely  to  take  sufiicient  notice  of  me 
to  answer  my  question,  I  will  answer  it  myself,  in 
the  affirmative. 

And  the  first  right  which  I  claim  for  our  species 
is  the  food-right,  —  the  right  to  well-cooked  meals, 

«37 


13<S  Husband  and  Wife. 

regularly  served.  Yesterday,  our  noon  meal  was 
half  an  hour  late.  The  children  came  home  from 
school  in  that  famished  condition  to  which,  some- 
how, study  does  always  reduce  school-children,  and 
clamorous  for  food.  They  were  reproached  by  their 
mother  for  being  unwilling  to  wait,  for  being  im- 
patient. Benny  cried,  and  had  to  be  shut  up  in 
the  front  room,  where  he  did  not  shut  up  at  all, 
but  went  off  in  a  steady  bellow.  I  could  have 
bellowed  myself,  I  was  so  hungry  ;  and,  besides,  it 
seemed  likely  that  my  dinner  would  be  cut  short 
—  as  it  was  —  by  the  coming  of  a  man  to  see  me 
on  business.  I  lost  my  pudding  that  day — steamed 
pudding,  with  sauce ;  my  especial  favorite.  Some- 
times —  yes,  often — our  breakfast  is  delayed  a  long 
time  on  account  of  the  necessary  preparations  hav- 
ing been  forgotten  the  night  before.  This  irregu- 
larity is  bad  for  the  children,  not  only  physically, 
but  in  its  effects  on  their  characters.  Yesterday, 
we  had  at  dinner,  warm,  soggy  biscuit ;  there  being 
no  other  bread  in  the  house,  with  the  exception  of 
a  pile  of  moldy  pieces. 

And  this  reminds  me  of  another  right.  For  my 
family,  I  am  willing  to  work  t^n  or  even  twelve 
hours  a  day ;  for  the  swill-man,  not  a  moment. 
Yet  the  latter  carries  off,  in  various  shapes,  more 


Husband  and  Wife.  139 

or  less  of  my  hardly-earned  money,  which,  more  or 
less  •carefully  saved,  would  buy  many  of  the  things 
for  which  Eliza  is  pining,  as  magazines,  engravings, 
drawing  lessons  for  Eliza  Frances,  etc. 

I  also  claim,  for  my  own  species,  the  clothes-right. 
A  husband  has  the  right  to  ask  that  the  portion  of 
the  family  wardrobe,  which  properly  falls  under  the 
wife's  supervision,  receive  suitable  attention.  If 
any  human  being  deserves  pity  and  sympathy,  it  is 
the  husband  whose  underclothing  is  in  shabby  con- 
dition, and  whose  stockings  come  to  him  unmended 
from  the  wash.  If  any  situation  calls  for  tears,  it 
is  that  of  a  husband  engaged  in  cutting  off  with  a 
pair  of  scissors,  as  evenly  as  he  can,  the  worn  edges 
of  his  wristbands  and  collars. 

I  don't  know  how  it  is  my  children  have  so  few 
clothes.  I  always  tell  Eliza  to  buy  everything  they 
need ;  but,  the  other  day,  Eliza  Frances,  in  going 
to  the  picnic,  was  two  hours  behindhand,  she  having 
waited  that  length  of  time  for  a  dress  to  be  ironed, 
yet  the  picnic  was  planned  two  weeks  ago.  Some 
mornings,  one  or  another  of  the  boys  is  obliged  to 
lie  in  bed  until  certain  garments  —  usually  trousers 
—  have  been  made  presentable. 

And  here,  again,  the  subject  of  waste  comes  in. 
For  want  of  the  nine  stitches  taken  in  time,  —  I 


140  Husband  and   Wife. 

forget  the  exact  words  of  the  proverb,  —  I  saw,  last 
week,  an  excellent  pair  of  trousers  which  I, had 
bought,  ready-made,  for  Benny,  go,  inch  by  inch,  to 
destruction.  First,  there  appeared,  just  below  one 
knee,  a  small  hole  of  the  kind  ray  mother  used  to 
call  a  "  trap-door  hole."  A  single  needleful  of  silk, 
applied  in  season,  would  have  closed  the  "  trap- 
door "  very  smoothly.  That  single  needleful  was 
not  applied.  The  next  morning  the  aperture  might 
have  been  described  by  the  term  "  barn-door."  In 
the  afternoon,  some  unlucky  nail  took  it  into  its 
head  —  this  was  Benny's  expression:  he's  one  of 
the  smartest  little  fellows !  —  to  go  into  that  en- 
larged opening,  and  the  result  was  a  jagged  tear, 
reaching  nearly  to  the  bottom.  Eliza  said  they 
were  not  worth  mending,  and  the  washwoman  had 
them. 

Another  of  our  rights  is  the  right  to  a  comfort- 
able, pleasant  home.  We  have  a  right  to  complain 
when  the  home  is  not  homelike,  and  especially 
when  it  is  destitute  of  order,  cleanliness,  and  of 
the  various  little  touches  by  which  woman's  hand 
can  make  it  attractive. 

My  mother  had  a  larger  family  than  Eliza  has, 
and  fewer  conveniences,  and  less  money  to  handle. 
But  her  boys  and  girls  always  went  neatly  clothed. 


Husband  and  Wife.  141 

her  house  was  like  wax-work,  she  had  a  place  for 
everything,  and  a  time  for  everything,  and,  as  for 
her  pies,  doughnuts,  and  pastry,  to  say  that  we 
have  nothing  like  them  in  this  house,  is  to  put  it 
veiy  mildly  indeed.  Eliza  says  that  nowadays 
men-folks  must  be  less  particular  about  their  food, 
in  order  that  women-folks  may  acquire  culture. 
The  other  day,  when  the  top  crust  of  the  ginger- 
bread —  the  part  I  like  best  —  was  burnt  to  a  crisp, 
Eliza  said  that  she  had  been  reading,  and  that  while 
that  top  crust  was  burning  she  got  an  idea,  and 
intimated  that  I  was  behind  the  times  if  I  placed 
top  crusts  above  ideas.  Now,  I  am  aware  that  they 
should  not  be  so  placed.  Nobody  thinks  more 
highly  of  ideas  than  I  do.  I  believe  in  the  fullest 
culture  for  women.  But  Is  not  culture  compati- 
ble with  a  pleasant,  comfortable  home,  and  —  top 
crusts  ?  " 

Wife  («oZm«).  —  Round  and  round  and  round! 
Breakfast,  dinner,  supper,  and  then  —  prepare  for 
breakfast  I  The  chain  of  work  is  complete,  for  the 
"  missing  links  "  are  supplied  by  sewing.  Oh !  wliy 
were  we  not  so  made  that  in  one  month  could  be 
done  the  cooking  for  a  year  ?  During  that  month, 
I  would  consent  to  be  tethered  to  the  cook -stove  by 
a  string  just  long  enough  to  enable  me  to  reach  the 


142  Husband  and  Wife. 

store-room,  and  revolve  around  the  extension-table ; 
and,  oh !  what  pies,  cakes,  puddings  and  preserves 
would  I  not  spread  before  my  dear  family  I  And 
then  —  eleven  months  of  blessed  freedom  !  Time 
for  reading,  walking,  sewing,  —  oh !  but  the  children 
should  have  elegant  clothes  !  Especially  the  girls. 
Benjamin  likes  to  see  them  dressed  like  other  little 
girls.  And  so  do  I.  Book-writers  say,  "  Watch 
carefully  over  your  children.  Give  them  your  per- 
sonal presence.  Take  them  out,  and  show  them 
the  operations  of  Nature.  Read,  study,  possess 
yourself  of  every  sort  of  information  which  will 
assist  you  in  the  right  training  of  your  girls  and 
boys.  Get  culture  for  your  own  sake.  With 
powers  of  mind  by  which  you  may  soar  to  the 
empyrean,  why  give  yourself  up  to  tliis  di-udgery 
of  housework?"  Book-writers  also  say,  "Make 
home  attractive.  Prepare  for  your  husband  appetiz- 
ing food.  Welcome  him  always  with  a  smile.  Be 
orderly.  Be  methodical.  Neglect  no  household 
duty." 

I  try  to  fulfill  all  these  requirements,  and  do  not 
fulfill  a  single  one.  The  other  night,  I  took  three 
of  my  children  out  walking,  showed  tliem  the 
flowers  shutting  themselves  up  for  the  night,  and, 
as  we  strolled  along  by  the  brink  of  a  pond,  ex- 


Husband  and  Wife.  143 

plained  the  wonderful  change  of  the  polliwog  to 
the  frog.  We  spent  a  profitable  and  a  delightful 
hour ;  but  —  the  yeast  was  forgotten  that  night, 
and  we  got  out  of  yeast  bread,  and  next  day  I  had 
to  give  Benjamin  sour-milk  biscuits,  which  were 
somewhat  heavy  on  account  of  the  stove  refusing 
to  draw,  as  is  often  the  case  in  a  calm  time.  It 
grieved  my  very  heart  that  I  had  no  yeast  bread 
for  Benjamin,  he  having  a  dyspeptic  stomach,  but, 
even  if  I  should  tell  him  this,  he  would  think  it 
very  singular  that  so  much  grief  and  forgetfulness 
should  exist  in  the  same  person.  He  cannot  under- 
stand how  sorry  I  am  when  I  forget,  or  when  the 
food  is  not  well  cooked.  He  has  not  the  faintest 
idea  of  the  amount  of  thought  and  calculation  which 
go  to  the  preparing  of  a  meal.  He  likes,  for  liis 
dinner,  meat  and  all  the  vegetables,  and  then  pie  or 
pudding.  There  is  nothing  unreasonable  in  tliis ; 
but  if  he  only  k^ew  how  easily  a  dinner,  or  parts 
of  a  dinner,  may  be  spoiled,  and  how  powerless  a 
woman  often  is  to  prevent  such  catastrophes  !  If 
he  only  knew  how  tired  I  am,  at  times ;  how  my 
back  aches  ;  how  my  head  aches ;  how  nervous  I 
get,  with  twenty  duties  calling  at  once,  and  the 
children  all  wanting  me,  and  perhaps  the  baby  cry- 
ing, and  Bubby  into  every  kind  of  mischief  I     I 


144  Husband  and  Wife. 

feel  that  this  unending  care  and  toil  is  drawing  me 
down,  down,  down ;  that  I  am,  in  one  sense,  losing 
my  mind. 

I  long  for  books,  and  time  to  read  them ;  long 
for  pictures,  for  all  beautiful  and  elevating  in- 
fluences, for  the  companionship  of  cultured  women, 
and  especially  for  ideas  such  as  will  assist  me  in 
training  the  children,  wliich  duty,  Benjamin  says, 
is  the  chief  duty  of  a  mother. 

One  afternoon  a  friend  sent  in  a  book  entitled 
"  Dress  Reform,"  and  composed  of  lectures  given 
by  women  physicians.  I  looked  it  over,  oh !  so 
eagerly,  searching  for  sensible  and  healthful  ways 
of  dressing  my  darling  little  girls.  While  doing 
this,  I  sat  down  by  the  stove  to  watch  the  baking 
of  some  gingerbread.  I  was  also  watching  Bubby 
at  the  same  time.  He  must  have  turned  the  damper 
with  a  fan  wliich  he  got  by  reacliing  up  to  the 
bureau  ;  sometimes  it  does  actually  seem  as  if  that 
child  was  made  to  draw  out,  like  a  telescope ! 
Meddling  with  the  damper  is  just  what  suits  him. 
The  end  of  it  all  was,  that  my  gingerbread  got 
burnt  black  on  top.  I  felt  that  it  would  be  irapos- 
mg  on  Benjamin  to  receive  him  with  a  smile  that 
night,  and  he  so  fond  of  the  uppercrust !  In  fact, 
it  is  hard  to  smile  when  one  feels  discouraged  and 


Husband  and  Wife.  145 

dissatisfied;  and  not  only  hard,  but  hypocritical. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  other  day,  when  the  marketr 
man  came  late,  and  my  little  kitchen-maid  had 
gone  to  her  cousin's  funeral,  and  the  baby  was 
fractious,  and  Bubby  pulled  a  basin  of  milk  down 
upon  liimself,  and  the  stove  wouldn't  draw,  and 
Benny's  trousers  had  to  be  mended  before  school 
was  done,  on  account  of  his  having  worn  his  best  ones 
to  school,  —  from  necessity,  —  that  could  never  do 
for  best  again  after  a  noon's  play-time.  A  smile 
on  my  face  at  such  a  time  would  have  been  a  smile 
of  hypocrisy  or  else  of  despair. 

I  wish  Benjamin  would  sell  one  of  his  fields,  and 
buy  a  library.  The  children's  questions  make  me 
feel  my  ignorance.  The  amount  of  his  cigars  for 
one  year  would  almost  pay  for  a  set  of  the  cyclopaedia. 
Think  of  having  books  in  the  house  which  could 
give  the  children  information  on  every  earthly 
object,  animate  or  inanimate !  But  it  would  be 
tantalizing  to  have  books,  and  be  kept  from  reading 
them  by  this  never-ending  routine  of  work.  And  yet 
I  take  pleasure  in  working  for  my  husband  and 
children.  I  like  to  make  things  comfortable  for 
Benjamin.  It  gives  me  solid  satisfaction  to  prepare 
for  him  plum  pudding,  with  sauce.  Men  are  so 
fond  of   pudding  with  sauce,  it  does  one's  heart 


146  Husband  and  Wife. 

good  to  place  it  before  them.  Oh!  if  the  days 
were  but  tmce  as  long,  or  twice  as  many  to  a  week. 
But  now  here  I  am,  duty  calling  two  different  ways. 
Information,  ideas,  culture,  I  must  have,  for  my 
children's  sake  and  my  own.  Good  food,  decent 
clothes,  a  tidy  house,  my  family  must  have.  How 
shall  all  this  be  accomplished  ?  O  dear,  dear,  dear ! 
I  give  up  in  despair. 

FROM  AN  OUTSIDE  PAKTY. 
{To  the  Husband.) 
Do  not  suppose,  that,  because  the  family  duties 
are  woman's  work,  a  woman  hiis  strength  to  per- 
form them  all.  It  is  owing  to  the  overwork  of  the 
women  of  your  mother's  day,  that  the  women  of  our 
day  have  so  little  vigor.  A  man  can  form  no  idea  of 
the  strain,  physical  and  mental,  which  comes  upon 
the  mother  of  a  family.  If  you  knew  what  a  labor  it 
is  for  EUza  to  di-ess  her  little  girl  like  other  little  girls, 
you  would  advocate  simplicity  in  di-ess.  If  you 
knew  how  it  exhausts  her  to  prepare  "pies,  dough- 
nuts, and  pastry,"  and  "all  the  vegetables,"  you 
would  be  content  with  a  simpler  diet  and  less 
variety,  or  else  employ  a  cook.  It  is  poor  economy, 
in  every  sense,  to  save  your  money  by  spending 
your  wife. 


Husband  and  Wife.  147 

Provide  for  your  children  good  literature,  that 
they  may  be  kept  from  reading  the  bad.  For  the 
father  of  a  family,  books  are  often  a  better  invest- 
ment than  land ;  always  a  better  one  than  cigars. 

Don't  forget  that,  in  order  to  do  her  whole  duty 
by  her  children,  a  mother  needs,  and  must  have, 
books,  reading-time,  and  recreation.  Many  hus- 
bands seem  to  think  that  the  chief  end  of  woman 
is  to  bear  children,  cook,  and  sew. 

{To  the  Wife.) 

You  are  lacking  foresight,  calculation,  and  the 
faculty  of  bringing  tilings  to  a  focus.  It  is  an  un- 
thiifty  housewife  who  does  not  have  at  least  one 
day's  meals  arranged  ahead.  Don't  live  "from 
hand  to  mouth."  The  same  with  clothes.  Chil- 
dren need  four  suits,  —  one  for  very  best,  one  for 
second  best,  and  two  for  the  wear  and  tear  of 
every  day.  To  get  on  with  a  scantier  supply 
is  poor  economy.  Promptness  in  mending  saves 
many  a  garment  from  going  to  ruin.  Spend  less 
time  in  unnecessary  sewing.  Dress  your  gu'ls 
simply.  By  a  judicious  training,  with  your  own 
example,  you  can  educate  them  to  prefer  a  simple 
style.  Could  the  several  mothers  of  a  neiglil)or- 
hood   agree    to    adopt  this    idea,   it  would    help 


148  Husband  and   Wife. 

greatly  in  making  it  practical.  Improve  your  mo- 
ments (very  imjDortant),  and  get  moments  by  con- 
triving ways  of  making  the  baby  amuse  himself. 
Holding  a  baby  is  not  always  the  best  way  of  tiiking 
care  of  it.  For  your  older  children,  have  evening 
readings  from  entertaining  books  of  biography  and 
natural  history.  Get  the  women  of  your  neighbor- 
hood to  unite  with  you  in  the  purchase  of  publica- 
tions on  subjects  of  special  interest  to  wives  and 
mothers.  The  time  for  reading  these  can  be  found 
by  giving  up  superfluous  cooking  or  superfluous 
sewing.  Remember  that  in  promising  to  be  married 
you  voluntarily  assume  the  prospective  duties  of 
wife  and  mother.  Chief  among  these  duties  are 
those  of  making  the  home  comfortable  and  at- 
tractive, and  of  seeing  that  the  food  provided  for 
your  family  is  so  cooked  as  to  be  wholesome  and 
palatable. 


XVIII. 


A  TALK  ISIATRIMONIAL. 


Friend  Solomon: 

At  our  gathering  last  evening  we  took  up  a  con- 
tribution for  Aunt  Sylvie.  Doing  this  reminded 
us  of  the  advisory  letter  she  wrote  her  nephew 
concerning  his  choice  of  a  wife.  Some  of  the  com- 
pany wondered  what  kind  of  a  letter  she  would 
write  a  niece  in  regard  to  the  choice  of  a  husband. 
Eunice  Hartman  said  she  saw  no  reason  why,  with 
slight  alterations,  the  same  letter  would  not  an- 
swer, substituting  masculine  pronouns  for  femi- 
nine, and  "  husband "  for  "  wife."  One  of  the 
qualities  which  Aunt  Sylvie  thought  indispensable 
in  a  wife,  was  good  temper.  "Now  it  stands  to 
reason,"  said  Eunice,  "  that  good  temper  in  a  wife 
is  no  more  essential  to  the  husband's  happiness, 
than  is  good  temper  in  a  husband  to  the  wife's 
happiness." 

"But  you  know,"  said  Miss  'Cindy,  "that  the 

M9 


150  A   Talk  Matrimonial. 

happiness  of  a  wife  is  not  of  so  much  impoi'tance 
as  the  happiness  of  a  husband." 

"  There's  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest,"  said 
Allen.  "It  must  be  confessed  that  the  average 
matrimonial  suggestions  of  the  newspapers  show 
that  Miss  'Cindy  only  expresses  the  general  feeling 
on  this  subject." 

"  What  I  am  going  to  say  now  has  no  reference 
to  the  people  of  tliis  place,"  said  Miss  Luce,  "but 
before  coming  here  I  worked  as  seamstress  in  a 
number  of  families.  In  several  of  these  families 
there  were  husbands  who  n^yer  appeared  to  think 
themselves  under  the  least  obligation  to  be  good- 
tempered.  I  believe  their  wives  were  sometimes 
actually  afraid  to  speak  to  them  ;  afraid,  that  is,  of 
huffy,  or  sharp,  or  contemptuous  answers.  There 
was  one  wife  in  particular  who  seemed  to  think  it 
a  mighty  piece  of  condescension  if  her  husband 
talked  with  her  familiarly  and  pleasantly.  His 
manner  to  her  was  usually  that  of  a  superior  to  an 
inferior.  It  was  a  rare  thing  for  him  to  answer  a 
question  of  hers  in  a  civil,  friendly  manner." 

"  I  wonder  why  it  is,"  said  Miss  'Cindy,  "  that 
husbands  —  I  don't  mean  the  husliands  of  this 
place,  any  more  than  Miss  Luce  did  —  assume 
such  airs  of  superiority, /and  think  'tis  all  right  for 


A   Talk  Matrimonial.  151 

them  to  snub  their  wives,  and  to  put  on  a  crabbed 
or  sarcastic  or  quenching  manner  in  talking  with 
them !  Because  a  man  is  married  to  a  woman  shall 
he  therefore  cease  to  treat  her  civUly  ?  Being 
single  myself,  I  make  bold  to  speak  my  mind,  and 
my  mind  is,  that  husbands  are  just  as  much  bound 
to  be  good  tempered  as  wives  are," 

"  A  man,"  said  Mr.  Parson  Chandler,  solemnly, 
"has  many  cares  and  perplexities.  These  harass 
his  mind  and  make  him  fractious." 

"  As  if  a  woman  did  not  have  cares  and  perplex- 
ities ! "  said  Eunice. 

"  In  the  particular  case  I  referred  to,"  said  Miss 
Luce,  "these  were  chiefly  on  the  woman's  side. 
She  had  several  small  children,  poor  help,  or  none 
at  all,  and  she  was  very  far  indeed  from  being  well. 
Her  husband  was  a  mechanic,  working  at  good 
wages,  and  as  a  general  thing  was  affable  and  gen- 
tlemanly except  to  his  wife.  He  spoke  to  her  in 
this  way  I  have  mentioned,  simply  because  she 
was  his  wife." 

"  Did  he  care  for  her  ?  "  asked  Mary  Ann. 

"  Indeed  he  did,"  answered  Miss  Luce.  "  It  was 
not  because  he  did  not  love  her,  or  did  not  desire 
her  happiness,  that  he  treated  her  so.  It  was,  be- 
cause she  was  his  wife,  and  for  no  other  reason." 


152  A    Talk  Matrimonial. 

"  I  have  often  observed  this  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Miss  Hunt,  the  schoolmistress.  "It  is  a  remnant 
of  the  old  barbaric  idea  that  the  wife  was  the  prop- 
erty of  the  husband,  to  do  with  as  seemed  to  him 
good." 

"Well,"  said  Allen,  "we'll  give  in  on  the  good- 
temper  question.  Another  of  Aunt  Sylvie's  points 
was  neatness ;  cei-tainly  that  need  not  be  insisted 
upon  so  strongly  in  the  hasband  as  in  the  wife." 

"I  don't  know  about  that  I"  cried  Mrs.  Johnson. 
"Judging  by  sister  Nancy's  husband,  I  calculate — 
Barnabas  "  (speaking  to  her  husband),  "  you  can 
stand  behind  the  door  while  Fm  telling  tliis  —  I 
calculate  that  Barnabas  there  has  saved  me  thou- 
sands and  millions  of  steps.  When  I've  been  a 
visiting  at  Nancy's  I've  said  to  myself,  how  can 
her  patience  last?  Her  husband  never  thinks  of 
wiping  his  feet,  never  puts  a  thing  in  its  place,  and 
'tis  just  about  one  woman's  work  to  run  after  him 
and  set  the  house  to  rights.  He  goes  into  all 
manner  of  dirt  with  good  clothes  on,  he  scrapes 
acquaintance  with  nails  and  rails  and  bramble- 
bushes,  and  Nancy  is  forever  chasing  him  round 
with  a  needle  and  thread,  or  with  a  bottle  of  some- 
thing good  to  take  out  something  I " 

"  Being  single,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, "  I  cannot  speak 


A   Talk  Matrinioiiial.  153 

from  experience,  but  I've  seen  enough  to  know  that 
a  man  can  lighten  a  woman's  work,  or  make  it 
harder,  according  as  he's  neat  or  slovenly." 

Here  I  overheard  Miss  Luce  say  something  to 
Miss  'Cindy,  in  a  low  voice,  to  the  effect  that  she 
longed  to  express  her  mind  in  regard  to  personal 
neatness  in  a  man,  but  supposed  it  would  not  do. 
Miss  'Cindy  asked  her  if  she  referred  to  anytliing 
in  particular.  ''  Yes,"  said  she.  "  I  refer  to  un- 
cleanly hands  and  finger  nails  at  meal-times. 
There's  no  excuse  for  this  kind  of  slovenhness,  so 
long  as  soap  and  water  and  nail-brushes  are  to  be 
found.  We  hear  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  the  im- 
portance of  personal  neatness  in  wives.  I  think  it 
is  equally  important  in  husbands." 

While  this  under-talk  went  on,  some  of  the  com-'   * 
pany  took  up  another  part  of  Aunt  Sylvie's  letter. 

"  One  sentence  would  have  to  be  left  out,  at  any 
rate,"  said  Mrs.  Parson  Chandler.  "  I  mean  that 
one  which  speaks  of  the  wife  leaving  her  own 
meeting  to  go  with  her  husband.  You  can't  shift 
that  about.  'Twould  look  funny  to  see  a  man 
leave  the  meeting  he  had  always  been  attending, 
and  go  with  his  wife." 

"  Coming  down  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  I  don't 
see  why  that  is  any  funnier  than  for  the  wife  to 


154  ^    '^<^lf^  Matrimonial. 

leave  the  meeting  she  has  always  attended,  and  go 
with  her  husband,"  said  Eunice. 

"  But  the  man  is  the  head  of  the  family,"  said 
Mrs.  Chandler. 

"  One  of  the  heads,"  said  Eunice.  "  The  wife's 
belief  is  as  dear  to  her  as  the  husband's  is  to  him. 
And,  since  woman  was  endowed  by  her  Creator 
with  reason,  judgment,  and  conscience,  it  must 
have  been  intended  that  she  should  use  these  fac- 
ulties in  forming  her  opinions." 

"  Still,  you  can't  say  that  religious  union  between 
man  and  wife  is  not  desirable,"  said  Mrs.  Jolmson. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Eunice,  "■  I  think  it  ex- 
tremely desirable.  But  we  cannot  hope  always  to 
see  it,  because  belief  cannot  be  controlled." 

"  And  since  it  cannot  be  controlled,"  said  Miss 
Hunt,  "  I  think  the  best  way  to  secure  harmony  is 
that  both  parties  should  agree  to  differ,  and  to 
respect  each  other's  right  of  opinion." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Allen,  "  that,  in  advising  her 
nephew,  it  rather  puzzled  Aunt  Sylvie  to  decide 
whether  the  wife  should  be  mentally  the  equal  of 
her  husband,  or  his  superior,  or  his  inferior ;  as  well 
informed  as  her  liusband,  or  more  so,  or  less  so. 
Miss  Hunt,  what  advice  should  the  niece  receive 
on  this  point  ?  " 


A   Talk  Matrimonial.  155 

"I  think,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  smiling,  "that  it 
would  promote  harmony  in  married  life  if  the  wife 
should  know  very  little  indeed ;  just  enough,  say, 
to  cook  her  husband's  meals  properly,  to  attend  to 
his  wardrobe,  and  to  keep  the  house  in  order.  If 
the  husband  is  inteUectuaUy  the  superior  of  his 
wife,  she  will  naturally  defer  to  him.  You  must 
see  that  this  will  promote  harmony.  Of  coiu^e  the 
wife  would  need  some  education  ;  enough,  at  least, 
to  enable  her  to  read  the  cookery-book,  and  per- 
haps the  Bible." 

"  Oh !  now  you  are  funning,"  said  Mrs.  Jolmson. 
"  Pray  talk  as  you  really  believe." 

"  I  really  believe,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that  this 
state  of  things  would  insure  harmony  of  a  certain 
kind.  Where  there  is  perfect  submission  on  one 
side,  there  can  be  no  discord.  But  whether  or  not 
it  would  insure  the  happiness  of  either  party  is 
quite  another  question.  Of  all  the  married  couples 
I  have  ever  seen,  those  were  the  happiest  in  which 
the  husband  and  wife  took  interest  in  the  same 
subjects,  aims  and  ideas,  and  found  enjoyment  in 
the  same  pleasures.  It  seemed  to  me  that  these 
couples  were  more  married  than  the  others.  There 
was  between  them,  not  only  the  marriage  bond,  but 
ths  bond  of  sympathy.     If  you  wish  me  to  speak 


1  56  A    Talk  Matrimonial. 

what  I  really  believe,  I  should  say,  that  if  either 
head  of  the  family  need  culture  and  enlightenment, 
and  almost  every  kind  of  information,  it  is  the  wife, 
for  the  reason  that  the  training  of  the  young  chil- 
dren is  peculiarly  her  province. 


XIX. 

ODD  OR  EVEX  ?  —  A  VOICE  FROM  BEACON  STREET. 

To  THE  Bybury  Gathering: 

Ladies  and  Cfentlemen :  —  A  friend  has  recently 
sent  me  "Mrs.  Lammerkin's  Account,"  a  paper 
read  at  one  of  your  Gatherings.  Since  reading 
it  I  have  several  times  found  myself  comparing 
situations  :  Mrs.  Lammerkin's,  mine,  and  those  of 
other  women  m  the  various  walks  of  life.  Per- 
haps there  is  more  evenness  in  these  situations 
than  is  commonly  supposed,  comparing  the  care, 
and  toil,  and  deprivations  and  general  wear-and-tear 
of  the  wealthy  city  women  with  those  experienced 
by  a  farmer's  wife  dwelling  in  a  log  hut  on  the 
Western  prairie;  there  seems,  at  first  glance,  no 
evenness  at  aU  in  the  distribution.  But  I  think 
that  whoever  will  follow  the  course  of  a  family 
which  goes  steadily  on  from  life  in  a  log  hut  to 
"society "  life  in  a  luxurious  city  mansion,  will 
find  that  the  desirable  as  weU  as  the  undesirable 
is  left  behind  at  every  step. 
157 


158  Odd  or  Event 

The  family  in  the  log  hut  have  one  room  and  a 
bedroom,  and  a  cellar  for  milk.  The  older  children 
sleep  in  bunks  against  the  walls.  The  hired  man, 
when  one  is  employed,  has  a  "  shake  down  "  on  the 
floor. 

As  soon  as  means  can  be  afforded,  a  larger  house 
is  built ;  a  house  with  three  rooms  below,  and  two 
chambers.  Our  family  now  rejoice  in  the  posses- 
sion of  a  neatly  fm-nished  sitting-room,  free  from 
the  little  unpleasantnesses  of  the  kitchen.  The 
older  children  and  hired  man  sleep  in  the  chambers 
and  perform  their  ablutions  there,  rather  than  at 
the  kitchen  sink  or  at  the  brook.  Much  is  gained ; 
still  the  gain  is  not  total.  Living  in  two  rooms 
was  inconvenient,  but  then  there  were  only  two 
rooms  to  take  care  of.  The  sitting-room  is  a  treas- 
ure, but  it  and  its  furnishings  need  daily  attention. 
It  is  nice  to  have  the  children  and  the  hii-ed  man 
out  of  the  way,  but  more  and  better  bedding  is 
required  than  answered  for  bunks  and  shake- 
downs ;  the  chambers  with  their  toilet  apparatus 
must  be  kept  in  order ;  and  now  begins  that  "  up- 
stairs and  down,"  which  t«akes  the  life  out  of  so 
many  of  our  women.  Mother  has  more  comforts, 
but  she  is  payhig  the  price  of  them. 

A  few  years,  and  the  situation  again  changes. 


Odd  or  Even  ?  1 59 

The  country  round  about  is  beginning  to  be  settled. 
Our  family  wanted  neighbors  ;  now  they  have  them. 
Here,  again,  the  gain  is  not  total.  Going  a-visiting 
and  having  company  take  time  and  money;  and 
besides  the  new  comers  are  not  all  desirable  people. 
Some  are  meddlesome,  others  are  coarse,  others 
again  are  vicious.  But  our  family  must  associate 
with  them,  and  its  children  must  play  and  study 
with  their  children.  This  is  the  price  it  pays  for 
neighbors. 

Land  has  risen  in  value  and  father  profits  by  the 
rise.  He  is  able  to  build  a  larger  house.  Mother 
desires  a  larger  sleeping-room  for  herself;  also  a 
spare  room,  sure  to  be  fit  to  sit  down  in  when  com- 
pany comes ;  also  a  spare  chamber,  for  guests ;  also 
a  back  porch  where  washing  can  be  done ;  also  a 
large  pantry  and  several  closets.  The  house  is 
built  and  the  necessary  furniture  bought.  Mother 
sits  up  nights  to  make  the  curtains,  bed-quilts, 
table-oovers,  rugs,  chair-cushions,  wall-brackets, 
picture  frames  and  other  fancy  articles  required 
for  the  additional  furnishing  and  adornment  of 
the  eight  rooms  which,  exclusive  of  closets  and 
pantr}>  she  now  has  to  sweep  and  dust  and  scrub, 
and  keep  in  order  generally.  Her  added  labors  are 
the  price   she   pays  for  her   added  conveniences. 


l6o  Odd  or  Even  f 

Father  sees  that  the  price  is  too  much  for  her,  and 
hires  a  girl.  The  girl  relieves  mother  of  the  heavy 
work,  but  she  is  slovenly,  or  saucy,  or  wasteful,  or 
dishonest,  or  perhaps  given  to  strong  drink,  and  is 
disagi-eeable  as  a  member  of  the  family.  Mother  is 
sorely  tried.  This  is  the  price  she  pays  for  her  relief. 
More  years  go  by,  and  the  scattered  neighborhood 
becomes  a  flourishing  town.  Our  family  are  now 
in  comfortable  circumstances.  They  move  into  a 
larger  and  more  convenient  house,  and  furnish  it 
handsomely.  To  match  this  large  and  handsomely 
furnished  house  demands  a  higher  style  of  living. 
The  sons  and  daughters  go  to  school  with  Judge 
So-and-So's  sons  and  daughters,  and  must  dress  up 
to  their  level.  Mother's  dress,  too,  must  corre- 
spond with  the  new  state  of  things.  Immense 
quantities  of  sewing  are  done,  mostly  by  mother, 
for  a  seamstress  is  beyond  her  rneans,  and  the  girls 
cannot  help  much.  Their  time  out  of  school  is 
occupied  with  "  practising,"  dancing-schools,  party- 
going,  party-giving  and  various  other  matters  inci- 
dent to  the  new  situation.  Of  all  these  mother 
has  the  supervision.  And  mother  also  must  go  to 
parties,  and  give  parties,  make  calls  and  receive 
callers.  And  rightly  enough ;  for  shall  not  social 
int^rcoui-se  be  kept  up  ?     And  other  demands  are 


Odd  or  Even  ?  i6i 

made  upon  mother.  As  a  woman  in  comfortable 
circumstances  she  is  expected  to  assist  at  chui-ch 
fairs,  festivals,  donation  parties,  and  the  like. 

In  her  new  situation  mother  has.  more  clothes, 
more  bedding,  more  china,  more  silver,  more  furni- 
ture, more  ornamental  articles,  more  rooms,  more 
"  help,"  more  company  than  ever  before ;  but  now 
comes  the  price.  Everything  in  this  handsomely 
furnished  house  requires  her  personal  attention. 
Neglect  and  careless  handling,  and  moth,  and  rust, 
and  robbery  must  be  guarded  against.  For  the 
more  "help,"  there  must  be  more  teaching,  more 
annoyances,  more  bearing  and  forbearing  than  ever 
before.  Social  intercourse  and  the  delightful  ex- 
citement of  fairs,  festivals  and  donation  parties 
make  serious  inroads  upon  mother's  time  and 
strength.  Time,  and  strength,  and  annoyances,  and 
worry,  and  huriy,  and  multiplied  cares,  go  to  make 
up  the  price  she  pays  for  her  step  onward. 

Another  step  is  taken.  Father's  speculations 
have  proved  successful,  and  he  has  now  become 
immensely  rich.  Our  family  remove  to  a  magnifi- 
cent mansion  in  the  city  where  father  has  his  busi- 
ness head-quarters.  There  is  no  lack  of  money. 
Mother  need  waste  no  thought  in  planning  small 
economies.     Both  ends  are  sure  to  meet. 


1 62  Odd  or  Even? 

The  magnificent  mansion  must  have  magnificent 
furnishing.  There  must  be  pictures  and  marbles, 
and  a  library,  and  elegant  upholsteiy,  and  articles 
of  adornment  imnumerable.  Mother  is  almost 
literally  at  her  wits'  end.  What  pictures  shall  she 
buy?  What  statuary?  What  books?  What 
adornments  ?  Are  this  and  that  and  the  other  in 
good  taste  ?  Do  they  correspond,  or  does  this  jar 
with  that,  and  that  with  the  other  ?  And  the  ex- 
pensive wardrobes  of  hei-self  and  her  daughtera, 
are  they  elegant,  or  merely  showy  ?  The  younger 
daughters  have  a  governess.  Is  she  a  person  skill- 
ful and  judicious  in  developing  the  intellect,  and 
whose  influence  for  good  is  assured?  The  idea 
comes  home  to  mother  that  a  lavish  spendhig  of 
money  may  not,  after  all,  insure  satisfactory  re- 
sults. She  finds  that  to  spend  money  well,  requires 
brain  work,  and  taste,  and  culture,  and  even  per- 
sonal exertion. 

And  now  that  our  family  are  in  "  society  "  proper, 
society  callers  call,  and  society  invitations  are  re- 
ceived and  accepted,  for  the  daughter  must  go  into 
society  ;  father  likes  to  be  social ;  and,  besides  it  is 
for  his  interest  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  men 
of  position.  The  evening  portion  of  city  social 
intercourse  and  city  entertainments  necessarily  in- 


Odd  or  Even?  163 

volves  late  hours,  —  necessarily,  because  of  the 
long  distances.  After  business  hours,  the  men 
must  go  all  the  way  to  their  homes  —  often  outside 
the  city,  dress  for  the  evening,  and  travel  perhaps 
a  mile,  or  miles,  to  the  place  appointed.  Previous 
to  the  last  change  of  situation,  mother  had  always 
kept  the  youngest  of  her  children  under  her  own 
charge,  nights  as  well  as  days.  Now,  however, 
she  needs  to  sleep  late  in  the  morning.  It  will 
not  answer  to  have  her  nights  cut  off  at  both  ends. 
But  children  wake  early  and  instantly  begin  their 
day's  work.  What  shall  be  done?  This  state 
of  things  demands  a  nursery  and  a  nursemaid,  and 
the  removal  from  mother's  room  of  the  children 
with  their  cribs  and  their  other  belongings. 

Mother  now  has  a  cook,  chamber  girl,  laundress, 
seamstress,  governess,  nurserymaid,  and  a  man-in- 
waiting.  Some  people  may  say,  "  I  should  think 
she  might  live  easy  now !  "  Easy !  with  seven 
people,  most  of  them  ignorant  people,  to  direct, 
and  control,  and  harmonize  ?  Easy !  with  the 
care  of  superintending  that  magnificent  mansion 
and  of  maintaining  a  correspondingly  magnificent 
style  of  living  ?  Easy !  under  the  necessity  of 
seeing  that  all  the  members  of  the  family  are 
brought  up  to  their  new  level  in  the  matters  of 


164  Odd  or  Even  ? 

dress,  accomplishments,  and  so  forth,  and  kept 
there  ?  Easy !  under  the  innumerable  demands  of 
social  intercourse  ?  If  such  demands  had  borne 
heavily  upon  her  in  the  previous  situation,  how 
much  more  heavily  do  they  bear  now  ?  If  neglect, 
and  careless  handling,  and  moth,  and  rust,  and 
robbery  were  to  be  guarded  against  then,  how 
much  greater  precautions  must  be  taken  now  that 
silver  services  furnish  the  tables,  jewels  of  price 
gleam  in  toilet  cases,  furs,  silks,  and  velvets  fill 
the  wardrobes,  while  every  apartment  abounds  in 
costly  articles,  some  of  them  as  fragile  as  costly ! 

And,  besides  the  duties  thus  hastily  glanced  at, 
mother  suddenly  becomes  aware  that  her  position 
as  a  woman  of  wealth  has  yet  other  demands  upon 
her  —  other,  and  higher.  These  demands  are  first 
made  clear  to  her  in  a  sermon  on  that  subject 
preached  by  her  own  pastor  —  by  my  own  pastor. 
I  will  drop  the  third  person  here,  for  the  case  I 
have  been  following  is  in  the  main  my  own.  The 
preacliing  of  my  own  pastor  aroused  me.  "  You 
who  have  wealth,"  said  he,  in  substance,  "  are  re- 
sponsible for  its  use.  You  are  freed  from  the 
necessity  of  labor ;  see  to  it  that  the  time  thus 
gained  is  not  frittered  away  m  the  frivolities  of  a 
merely  fashionable  life.     To  you  in  a  special  man- 


Odd  &r  Even  ?  165 

ner  belongs  the  duty  of  high  culture.  Read,  study, 
reflect.  Store  your  minds  -svith  the  best  thoughts 
of  the  best  writers.  "Those  whose  days  are  con- 
sumed by  toil,  have  no  time  for  these  things.  An- 
other of  your  special  duties  is  that  of  upholding 
Art  for  its  own  sake.  For  you  have  the  means  of 
purchasing  its  products,  and  can,  if  you  choose, 
acquire  the  knowledge  which  will  enable  fou  to 
appreciate  them. 

"  Another  of  the  duties  of  your  position  is,  that 
you  do  something  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  are 
crushed  down  by  poverty,  or  ignorance,  or  sin. 
Make  your  influence  an  elevating  one.  Let  your 
sympathies  flow  out  in  every  direction.  Relieve 
the  deserving  poor,  assist  the  unfortunate,  befriend 
the  friendless ;  think  and  plan  for  the  good  of 
those  who  are  too  low  in  the  scale  of  humanity  to 
think  and  plan  for  themselves. 

"And  do  not  withdraw  yourselves  from  your 
own  children,  giving  them  up  wholly  to  the  care  of 
those  whose  influence  upon  character  may  be  any- 
thing but  good  —  your  children  need  you — you, 
yourself.  It  is  another  of  your  duties  to  get  en- 
lightenment upon  all  subjects  connected  with  the 
training  of  children." 

Such  were  some  of  the  ideas  of  the  sermon.     I 


1 66  Odd  or  Event 

have  tried  hard  to  follow  its  teachings,  especially 
the  last ;  but  if  you  knew  the  demands  made  upon 
my  time,  you  would  see  how  it  is,  that  often  when 
I  fain  would  give  myself  to  my  children,  I  find  that 
myself  is  not  at  my  own  disposal. 

Neither  are  the  children  always  at  my  disposal : 
they  have  their  lessons  to  be  taken,  their  compan- 
ions to  meet,  their  parties  to  attend,  their  enter- 
tainments public  and  private.  Sometimes  I  look 
back  with  longing  to  the  day  of  the  log-hut  period, 
when  my  older  children  were  mere  toddlers  and 
prattlers.  I  could  at  almost  any  time  gather  them 
about  me,  and  I  had  them  and  my  husband  to  my- 
self ;  for  there  were  no  outside  interests  to  di'aw  us 
apart.  The  kinds  of  excitement  which  city  life 
brings  to  the  children  are  not  so  good  for  them  as 
were  those  of  the  log-hut  life.  Those  were  simple 
and  healthful,  yet  pleasing :  going  a-nutting,  mak- 
ing playthings,  learning  to  ride  and  to  drive,  caring 
for  a  pet  lamb,  seeing  the  bossy,  hunting  for  eggs, 
counting  the  new  brood,  watching  the  birds,  and 
the  return  of  the  wild-fowl,  and  the  blossoming  of 
each  flower  in  its  season. 

Yes,  in  that  simple  life  were  some  desirable 
things  which  all  our  wealth  cannot  bring  to  the 
city  mansion.     We  had  pure   air,  plenty  of  sun- 


Odd  or  Even  f  167 

shine,  natural  objects,  and  delightful  scenery.  The 
attachment  between  ourselves  and  our  domesticated 
creatures  amounted,  in  some  cases,  to  close  friend- 
ship. We  had  flour  made  from  our  own  grain, 
fresh  vegetables,  undiluted  milk,  luscious  cream, 
sweet  butter,  new-laid  eggs.  Sometimes  I  think 
that  these  healthful  articles  of  diet,  and  the  pure 
air,  sunshine,  fine  scenery,  and  living  face  to  face 
and  heart  to  heart  with  Nature  (counting  in,  also, 
freedom  from  society  restraints  and  demands,  and 
city  evil  influences)  are  almost  too  great  a  price  to 
pay  even  for  all  we  have  since  gained.  As  for  time, 
I  never  had  less  than  this  present  situation  affords 
me.  If  you  like,  I  will  send  you  an  account  of  one 
of  my  days.  It  will  not  be  as  entertaining  as  Mrs. 
Lammerkin's,  but  possibly  it  may  help  to  show  you 
the  general  evenness  of  things. 

Respectfully  yours. 

Beacon  Steeet  Wojian. 


XX. 

THE    BEACON    STREET    WOMAN'S    ACCOUNT. 

To  THE  Bybury  Gathering  : 

I  promised  you  an  account  of  one  of  my  days ; 
and  I  will  take  yesterday  —  Tuesday,  "  because," 
as  Mrs.  Lammerkin  says,  "  its  events  are  fresh  in 
mind." 

I  arose  early,  hoping  to  make  my  morning  visit 
to  the  nursery  a  long  one.  Upon  opening  the 
nursery  door,  I  found  the  two  children,  Minnie 
and  Jack,  taking  in  molasses  candy,  not  only  at 
their  mouths,  but  through  all  the  pores  of  the 
skin-surface  left  visible  by  their  clothing.  Minnie 
had  ominous  news,  which  she  fired  at  me,  so  to 
speak,  in  one  swift  utterance.  "  Last  night  Jack 
went  down  with  Norah  to  get  a  pan  to  put  the 
candy  in  ;  and  when  Norah  was  finding  the  pan, 
she  found  some  bread  and  cake  and  sugar,  done  up 
in  a  paper,  and  Norah  asked  Margaret "  —  the 
laundress  —  "  and  Margaret  told  Norah  that  cook 
i68 


The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account.       169 

put  them  there  to  cany  away  out :  it  wasn't  the 
first  time  !  "  Now  this  cook  had  been  with  us  long 
enough  to  learn  our  ways,  our  likes  and  our  dis- 
likes, and  by  many  preachments  I  had  brought  her 
almost  up  to  the  point  of  considering  it  a  duty  to 
cook  healthfully.  Neat,  quick,  capable  —  but  no 
matter !  she  must  go ;  and  I  must  again  receive 
into  my  house  a  stranger ;  one  whose  character  and 
capabilities  were  uncertain. 

I  promised  the  children  another  visit,  and  went 
to  have  a  private  talk  with  Margaret.  She  con- 
firmed the  story,  and  told  me  where  I  should  find 
another  package  rolled  up  in  cook's  shawl,  which 
package  I  saw.  After  breakfast  I  spoke  to  cook, 
and  gave  her  the  customary  week's  warning ;  cook 
flew  into  a  rage,  and  left  the  house  in  less  than  two 
hours  ;  she  probably  suspected  the  informant,  for 
she  told  Norah  to  tell  me  that  Margaret  kept  a 
paper  of  washing-powder  hid  away,  and  used  it  in 
every  washing.  As  it  looks  reasonable  that  chemi- 
cals which  take  out  the  dirt  will  likewise  take  out 
the  clothes,  I  sternly  refuse  to  buy  washing-powder ; 
Margaret,  therefore,  must  have  bought  it  herself. 
But  discretion  bid  me  refrain  from  giving  warning, 
for  I  knew  that  our  dinner  that  day  depended  upon 
the  exertions  and  good-will  of  Margaret  and  the 


170       The  Beacon  Street   Wo7ua)i  s  Account. 

chamber-girl,  aided  by  as  much  of  my  own  assist- 
ance as  circumstances  might  allow  me  to  furnish ; 
besides,  another  laundress  might  bring  another 
package  of  washing-powder. 

The  children  were  vociferous  in  their  calls,  but 
I  had  to  stay  below  long  enough  to  hold  a  kitchen 
consultation  about  the  servants'  dinners  and  our 
own.  Upon  going  up-stairs,  I  found  my  husband 
in  the  hall,  awaiting  my  coming  with  some  im- 
patience, for  he  had  to  catch  a  certain  car,  at 
a  certain  point,  or  lose  a  certain  man.  He  said 
he  had  forgotten  to  tell  me  that  his  aunt  Julia  had 
sent  him  word  that  she  was  coming  soon,  and 
wished  us  to  fix  the  time.  He  must  write  certainly 
by  the  four  P.  M.  mail.  I  could  not,  at  that  mo- 
ment, with  his  hand  upon  the  door-knob,  think 
just  what  were  our  engagements  ;  but  said  I  would 
call  at  his  office  on  my  way  to  the  Intelligence 
Office.  He  tore  down  the  steps,  nearly  upsetting  a 
woman  by  the  name  of  Simmons,  just  then  coming 
up-steps  with  a  bundle.  Mrs.  S.  is  a  poor  and  not 
veiy  capable  woman,  who  does  the  plainest  of 
my  sewing.  I  examined  what  she  had  done,  sug- 
gested some  improvements  in  her  style,  and  looked 
up  work  for  another  bundle.  She  left  just  as  the 
expressman  arrived  with  a  written  list  of  articles 


Tlic  Beacon  Street   Woniaii  s  Account.       lyi 

needed  by  my  daughter  who  is  away  at  school,  and 
is  to  act  in  tableaux.  While  I  was  collecting  these, 
the  postman  came.  The  cliildren  were  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs.  I  sent  them  to  the  nursery,  with 
promises,  and  picked  up  my  letters ;  but  before  I 
could  open  them,  the  door-bell  rang,  and  I  was  told 
that  Mrs.  Berry  wished  to  see  me.  Mrs.  B.  having 
once  been  my  nurse,  feels  privileged  to  ask  various 
and  frequent  favors.  This  time,  she  wished  my 
help  in  getting  her  into  the  Old  Woman's  Home. 
She  said  she  supposed  that  as  I  had  plenty  of  time, 
it  wouldn't  be  much  of  a  job  for  me  to  see  the  direc- 
tors. I  promised  to  do  all  I  could  for  her.  After 
she  had  gone  I  read  my  letters  :  — 

"  Dear  Madam: 

The  Dramatic  Exhibition  in  aid  of  the  Orphan's  Home 
takes  place  Wednesday  evening.  Knowing  that  you  have 
both  the  will  and  the  time  to  do  good,  I  enclose  twelve 
tickets,  hoping  that  you  may  be  able  to  dispose  of  them." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Exbxtry: 

Poor  Carterston!  His  is  a  decided  case  of  genius  strug- 
gling with  poverty.  A  few  kind  words,  and  especially  a  few 
purchasers,  will  work  wonders  for  him.  He  must  be  brought 
Into  notice.  I  promised  to  take  some  of  my  friends  Tuesday 
afternoon  to  see  his  pictures.  Do  come !  Don't  forget  that 
you  are  to  lunch  with  me  to-morrow.  I  have  invited  Mrs.  E. 
and  Miss  L.  C.  expressly  on  your  account." 


1/2       The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account. 

"Dearest  and  best  Mrs.  Enbury: 

Yoa  remember  that  charming  Mrs.  Coleman  who  so  per- 
fectly delighted  you  when  you  were  in  Chicago.  She  will  be 
In  Boston  Tuesday  and  Wednesday,  at  Hotel  Brunswick.  I 
told  her  you  would  be  only  too  glad  to  take  the  wings  of  the 
morning,  or  else  of  the  afternoon, —  do  afternoons  have 
them?  —  and  fly  to  welcome  her.  Of  course  you  will  show 
her  the  Lions,  that  is,  the  high-toned  ones,  especially  the 
aesthetic  ones,  and  invite  her  to  your  lovely  home. 

P.  S.  Please  tell  me,  by  return  mail,  everything  you  know 
of  a  light-and-stiff-haired  young  man,  with  foreign  accent, 
who  figured  at  your  perfectly  exquisite  parties  last  winter.  I 
have  reasons  for  asking." 

•'  Mrs.  Enbury  : 

This  is  to  remind  you  that  the  committee  on  Free  Evening 
Schools  meets  Tuesday  afternoon  at  3.30  p.  m." 

Besides  these  were  some  family  letters,  several 
notes  of  invitation,  and  a  note  from  the  children's 
dressmaker,  saying  that  she  would  be  here  on 
Thursday.  This  reminded  me  that  there  was  still 
shopping  to  be  done  for  them,  and  also  that  I  was 
to  call  at  Hovey's  that  day,  at  half-past  two,  to 
have  ray  own  dress  tried  on. 

I  answered  such  letters  as  required  answering, 
then  had  another  kitchen  consultation,  and  then, 
with  a  view  to  the  dressmaker,  went  to  look  over 
the  children's  winter  clothes.     I  was  in  the  agonies 


The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account.  -     173 

of  this  research,  hurrying  to  get  through  in  order 
to  gain  time  to  continue  the  practice  of  that  part 
of  my  pastor's  discourse  which  enforced  the  duty 
of  storing  our  minds  with  the  best  thoughts  of  the 
best  writers,  when  a  lady's  card  was  brought  to  me. 
She  is  a  person  I  care  for,  and  she  came  a  long  dis- 
tance to  see  me  ;  so  I  went  down.  My  next  inter- 
ruption was  from  a  stylish  lady,  the  wife  of  my 
husband's  partner ;  not  a  person  I  care  for,  but  I 
went  down,  for  fear  of  giving  offence.  I  have  al- 
ready affronted  several  ladies  by  refusing  to  see 
them,  or  by  neglecting  to  call,  though  in  every 
instance  the  refusal,  or  the  neglect,  was  caused 
either  by  a  pressure  of  duties  or  lack  of  physical 
strength.  After  this  lady  left,  I  returned  to  my 
work,  hoping  yet  to  finish  that,  and  do  a  little  read- 
ing, and  note  down  a  few  facts  for  the  Free  Even- 
ing School  committee,  before  lunch-time.  We 
lunch  at  half-past  one,  and  dine  at  six.  But  pres- 
ently came  Thomas  —  our  man  —  to  say  that  Mr. 
Lane  was  below.  Mr.  Lane  is  a  reformed  drunkard 
—  a  poor  broken-down  man,  who  is  trying  to  earn 
an  honest  living  by  peddling  various  small  articles. 
I  never  let  him  go  without  seeing  him,  for  it  seems 
emphatically  one  of  the  duties  of  my  situation  to 
show  personal  kindness  to  a  man  like  ^Ir.  Lane. 


174       ^^^  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account. 

My  next  call  was  from  Bertha's  music  teacher. 
She  spoke  of  Bertha's  indolence  and  carelessness, 
and  asked  if  I  could  not  sit  in  the  room  during  her 
hours  of  practice.  Not  every  mother  could  do  this, 
but  as  I  had  plenty  of  time,  etc.,  etc. 

Just  as  the  music  teacher  left,  there  came  a 
poorly-dressed,  modest-appearing  youth,  who  said 
that  he  understood  we  had  some  rare  pictures,  and 
would  I  permit  a  stranger  —  who  sometimes  dab- 
bled in  Art  himself  —  the  privilege  of  examining 
them  ?  "  With  pleasure,"  I  said,  and  meant  it ; 
but  not  knowing  what  might  be  his  peculiarities,  I 
remained  in  the  room.  During  his  visit  there  came 
a  young  woman  asking  what  encouragement  I  could 
give  her  in  her  plan  of  opening  a  school  in  our 
vicinity.  After  her,  two  callers,  young  friends  of 
mine,  who  are  forming  a  German  class,  and  wish 
my  daughter  Amy  to  become  a  member.  Next  a 
boy,  with  a  scrap  of  paper  hastily  written  on  with 
lead  pencil :  — 

"  That  poor  Mrs.  Haynes  will  be  turned  out  unless  some- 
thing is  done  immediately.  We  must  not  let  a  good  woman 
lilie  her  suffer.  I  am  flat  with  sick  headache.  Can't  you  see 
her  this  afternoon?  I  can't  think  of  any  one  who  Is  so  likely 
to  have  the  time  as  you  are." 

Upon   the   heels   of    tliis   messenger  came   the 


The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account.       175 

French  woman  who  is  to  embroider  our  new  cur- 
tains, bringing  patterns  and  stitches  for  me  to  ex- 
amine. Then  came  the  postman  with  another 
letter.  We  have  frequent  letters  of  this  sort,  and 
please  do  not  think  that  it  is  not  a  pleasure  to 
comply  with  such  requests,  for  it  is.  But  even 
pleasures  take  time. 

"  Dear  Aunt: 

Mother  wants  to  know  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  just 
step  into  that  place  in  Washington  Street,  that  advertises  goods 
so  cheap,  and  see  if  they've  got  anything  good  for  her  a  win- 
ter dress,  if  they  have,  to  get  one  and  send  it  by  express,  C. 
O.  D.  and  she  will  pay  you  back  the  money  it  costs.  She 
wants  one  that'll  be  suitable  for  her  age,  but  not  too  dull. 
She  wants  one  that  will  do  to  wear  to  meeting  the  first  of  it, 
and  then  put  on  afternoons.  They  advertise  they're  all  wool, 
so  don't  get  cheated.  And  hadn't  you  just  as  lief  do  an  errand 
for  me?  One  of  the  girls  I  go  with  is  going  to  get  married, 
and  I  mean  to  get  her  a  wedding  present.  I  want  something 
that  is  part  useful  and  part  ornamental.  You  can  use  your 
own  judgment.  About  price,  I  don't  want  to  go  too  high, 
and  then  again  I  don't  want  to  be  mean.  "We  are  no  kin,  bat 
we  are  very  intimate,  and  mother  thinks  I  ought  to  go  about 
as  high  as  I  should  for  a  second  cousin.  When  cousin  Anna 
was  married  —  she's  my  own  —  I  gave  her  a  sugar  spoon,  so 
you  can  judge  something  by  that.  It  was  solid.  Mother's 
dressmaker's  coming  the  last  of  the  week.  She  says  she 
wouldn't  ask  you  —  and  no  wouldn't  I  —  if  she  thought 
'twould  be  any  pat  out  to  you,  but  she  kuows  you  have  lots 


1/6       The  Beacon  Street   Wonuni  s  Account. 

of  time,  and  are  always  going  by  thie  shops,  but  she'll  be 
much  obliged  to  you  all  the  same  —  and  so  shall  I. 

P.  S.  Sammy's  got  a  composition  to  write,  and  he  wants 
to  know,  when  you're  going  by  the  Public  Library,  if  you 
won't  just  step  in  and  see  how  many  kinds  of  Deers  there 
are, —  meaning  animals, —  and  where  they  belong,  and  what 
their  principal  habits  are,  for  he's  going  to  try  for  the  prize." 

This  account  is  already  so  long  that  I  must  give 
the  remainder  hurriedly,  and  in  an  abrupt  style,which 
I  pray  you  to  excuse.  Made  notes  of  my  niece's 
errands ;  spent  twenty  minutes  with  the  children 
—  some  things  in  their  ta^  convinced  me  that  they 
are  getting  from  Norah  much  that  is  bad  ;  lunched 
early,  by  myself,  drove  down  town,  and  called  at 
my  husband's  office.  He  had  stepped  out  to  meet 
a  man,  but  had  left  a  note  asking  me  to  wait,  as  he 
wished  me  to  go  with  him  to  see  a  shoemaker  who 
makes  shoes  of  a  kind  likely  to  fit  Jack,  who  has 
weak  ankles.  He  informed  me  that  he  had  been 
under  the  business  necessity  of  asking  a  gentleman 
to  dinner  that  day.  Waited  for  husband  five  min- 
utes. Looked  in  newspaper  to  find  number  of  the 
cheap  store  on  Washington  Street.  Wrote  note 
concerning  Aunt  Julia,  also  saying  that  I  was 
obliged  to  leave,  and  that  I  would  see  about  Jack's 
shoes  the  next  day  or  day  after. 


The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account.       177 

Went  directly  to  the  Intelligence  Office.  Long 
detention.  Reached  Hovey's  late  ;  another  woman 
trying  on  ;  must  wait  a  few  minutes  ;  stepped  be- 
low to  look  at  goods ;  not  quite  enough  of  kind 
selected ;  clerk  ran  up  to  hunt  a  whole  piece,  stayed 
a  great  while  ;  up-stairs  agam,  another  woman  try- 
ing on ;  made  appointment  for  next  day  ;  drove  to 
North  End,  saw  poor  Mrs.  Haynes  ;  long  detention 
there.  Drove  to  Chambers  Street  —  committee- 
meeting  nearly  over :  stated  some  facts  and  heard 
some.  Drove  to  Tremont  Street,  and  looked  in  at 
Carterston's  studio  to  say  that  I  would  come  next 
day  or  day  after.  Drove  to  Hotel  Brunswick, 
calling  at  cheap  store  on  the  way.  ^V^lile  going  up 
the  Hotel  Brunswick  steps,  recollected  that  I  had 
promised  to  be  home  at  half-past  five  to  inspect  and 
give  a  few  last  touches  to  the  dinner ;  consulted 
watch  :  just  time  to  reach  home  (decided  that  after- 
noons do  have  wings).  Saw  the  Chicago  Charmer, 
gave  reasons  for  haste,  engaged  her  to  dine  with  us 
next  day ;  drove  home,  found  some  things  gomg 
badly,  but  the  essentials  rightly,  ordered  dinner,  de- 
layed fifteen  minutes  ;  ran  up  to  my  room,  made 
myself  presentable  ;  ran  down-stairs,  introduced  to 
two  gentlemen  guests. 

Movement    to   dining-room,   loud   ring    at   the 


1/8       The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account. 

door-bell,  a  summons  to  the  reception  room,  Aunt 
Julia  with  travelling-bag.  Said  she  saw  notice  of 
meetings  to  begin  next  day,  so  thought  she  would 
start  and  come.  Knew  it  couldn't  be  any  put  out 
where  there  was  so  much  house-room  and  so  much 
help  kept.  Hoped  I  would  go  to  some  of  the  meet- 
ings with  her.  Dear,  good  woman  !  I  shall  do  my 
best  to  go  to  some  of  the  meetings  with  her.  And 
here  let  me  say  that  it  would  break  my  heart  if  she 
and  others  of  our  relatives  should  stay  away  for 
fear  of  giving  us  trouble.  I  want  them  to  come  ; 
it  gives  me  real  pleasure  to  oblige  them  in  any 
way ;  but,  in  making  out  this  account,  it  is  neces- 
sary, if  possible,  to  give  a  specimen  of  all  the  duties 
incident  to  my  present  position.  This  is  not  pos- 
sible. Their  number  is  legion.  They  diverge  and 
converge,  and  clash,  and  crowd  and  run  over  each 
other.  In  a  large  family  like  ours,  every  member 
of  which  must  be  kept,  so  to  speak,  up  to  the  level 
of  the  situation,  demands  upon  the  mother  are  in- 
cessant. In  a  large  establishment  like  ours  there 
is  always  something  in  some  department  which 
needs  my  personal  and  instant  attention.  Among 
the  large  number  of  servants  required  by  such  an 
establishment,  there  are  always  some  who  cannot 
be  borne  with,  or  who  must  be  borne  with.     In  a 


•    The  Beacon  Street   Woman  s  Account.        179 

large  acquaintance  like  ours,  are  always  some, 
usually  many,  to  whom  and  from  whom  calls  and 
invitations  are  due.  In  a  large  city  like  ours,  are 
always  coming  and  going  those  who  really  need 
our  kind  attentions.  Also,  a  city  like  ours  has  al- 
ways a  class  of  unfortunates,  who,  for  humanity's 
sake,  ought  to  be  dear  to  us ;  people  crushed  by 
poverty  or  ignorance,  or  sin,  whose  claims  upon  us 
are  none  the  less  strong  that  they  are  powerless  to 
urge  those  claims. 

My  account  is  hastily  written,  and  therefore  im- 
perfect ;  but  it  may  serve  to  show  what  I  meant  by 
the  general  evenness  of  things.  Where  much  is 
given,  much  is  required,  whether  of  wealth,  or 
genius,  or  power  to  rule. 

[Signed]         Beacon  Street  Woman. 


XXL 

SOCIETY. —  A    FEW    MORE  WORDS    FROM    BEACON 
STREET. 

To  THE  Bybury  Gathering: 

Ladies  and  Crentlemen  : —  Before  sending  you 
my  account,  I  read  it  to  my  husband. 

"  Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  rich  woman ! "  he 
exclaimed,  at  the  end. 

"  It  is  very  well  to  say  that,"  I  answered  ;  "  but 
who  will  do  it  ?  The  destitute  classes  get  pity  and 
help  and  advice.  But  who  will  pity  us  —  amelio- 
rate our  sorrows  —  devise  plans  for  our  relief?  " 

"  You  ladies  must  form  an  Amelioration  Society," 
said  he.  "  Here's  a  suggestion  for  you  to  start 
with :  Let  each  lady  have  a  certain  day,  or  part  of 
a  day,  in  which  to  receive  callers,  and  refuse  to  see 
them  at  other  times." 

"  I  tried  that  way,  for  a  while,"  said  I ;  "  but  it 
had  its  disadvantages.  The  ceremonious  callers, 
with  nothing  particular  to  say  —  and  saying  it  — 

iSo 


Society.  i8i 

and  the  people  whom  I  was  anxious  to  see,  were 
liable  to  come  together.  And  some  of  these  latter 
had  often  on  that  day  engagements  of  their  own. 
Some  of  them  lived  out  of  town ;  coming  in  at 
such  times  as  suited  their  convenience  or  necessi- 
ties. If  they  did  not  happen  to  hit  my  day,  I 
missed  seeing  them." 

"  Here  is  another  plan,"  said  husband.  "  It  may 
not  wipe  away  your  sorrows  entirely,  but  it  will 
ameliorate  them.  Suppose  it  were  an  established 
rule,  that,  up  to  the  hour  of  —  say  twelve,  the  lady 
of  the  house  shall  not  be  interrupted  with  callers, 
except  in  extreme  cases?  Suppose  it  were  gen- 
erally understood  that,  until  the  time  agreed  upon, 
her  time  is  given  to  her  family  and  her  own  pur- 
suits ?  At  any  rate,  this  would  leave  you  some 
hours  free  from  the  merely  ceremonious  callers, 
with  their  nothing  in  particular  to  say." 

"A  very  good  idea,"  said  I.  "But  I  wish  we 
weren't  obliged  to  have  this  kind  of  callers,  nor 
obliged  to  make  ceremonious  calls,  ourselves." 

"  Oh !  these  are  all  a  part  of  '  society,'  you  know," 
said  husband ;  "  when  we  are  in  '  society,'  we  must 
do  as  '  society '  does." 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  *  society '  is  put  together," 
said  I.     "  I  wish  it  might  be  knocked  to  pieces  and 


1 82  Society. 

built  up  on  a  different  basis.  Its  present  basis  is 
money.  Those  who  can  afford  to  support  a  cer- 
tain grand  style  of  living,  associate.  Suppose  a 
rich  man  and  a  poor  man,  both  equally  good  and 
bright  and  companionable,  and  but  little  known, 
move  into  a  place  and  settle  down.  The  first  peo- 
ple —  so  called  —  of  the  place  take  no  notice  of 
the  poor  man,  but  to  the  rich  man  and  his  family 
they  are  prompt  in  their  attentions.  They  say  to 
them,  practically,  '  You  can  live  in  our  style,  there- 
fore we  desire  your  acquaintance.'  Now,  I  don't 
see  the  force  of  this  therefore.  I  don't  think  it 
follows  at  all  that  because  a  lady  has  a  fine  house, 
rich  clothing,  costly  jewels,  elegant  upholstery,  to- 
gether with  silver  and  china  and  such,  that  I  should 
therefore  find  her  a  desirable  companion,  or  that 
any  lady,  for  this  kind  of  therefore,  should  find  me 
one.  Every  day,  ladies  call  upon  me  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  I  possess  all  these  tilings,  and  I 
call  upon  them  for  no  other  reason  than  that  they 
possess  them.  We  have  little  in  common.  The 
ideas,  the  books,  the  people,  the  plans  which  in- 
terest me,  do  not  interest  them  ;  those  which  inter- 
est them,  have  no  special  attractions  for  me." 

"  Yet  all  human  beings  have  something  in  com- 
mon," said  husband. 


Society.  183 

"  You  never  said  a  truer  thing  than  that,"  said 
I;  "but  my  point  is,  the  absurdity  of  dividing 
human  beings  into  squads,  or  sets,  according  to 
their  money.  There  is  no  sense  in  such  a  divis- 
ion. It  is  not  a  natural  one.  Let  those  who  are 
naturally  attracted  come  together.  At  present, 
'  society '  stands  in  the  way  of  this.  I  know  sev- 
eral ladies  whose  talk  would  interest  me,  and  help 
me,  too ;  but  I  don't  know  just  how  to  get  those 
ladies  for  my  associates.  There  are  Mrs.  W.  and 
one  or  two  others,  who  belong  to  our  parish  sewing- 
circle.  They  dress  plainly,  and,  veiy  likely,  do 
their  own  work  ;  but  they  are  brimful  of  ideas  and 
wit  and  benevolence  and  good  humor ;  and  for  in- 
born delicacy  and  refinement,  I  hardly  know  their 
equals.  I  wish  they  would  invite  me  to  their 
houses." 

"  Why  don't  you  invite  them  to  yours  ? "  hus- 
band asked. 

"  There  are  objections  in  the  way  of  that,"  said 
I.  "  If  they  should  meet  with  '  society '  people 
here,  things  might  not  run  smoothly.  Certain  of 
our  acquaintances;  polite  as  they  fancy  themselves, 
would  treat  them  with  scant  civility,  speak  to  them 
in  a  patronizing  way,  make  them  feel  themselves 
out  of  place.    '  Society '  politeness  often  puts  me  in 


1 84  Society. 

mind  of  a  cake  my  mother  once  made  to  give  away. 
The  plums  were  forgotten  in  the  making,  and  so 
were  stuck  into  the  crust,  after  the  baking.  The 
cake  was  carried  by  my  little  brother,  and  was  re- 
ceived with  thanks  and  admiration.  'But  the 
plums  don't  go  all  the  way  through  I '  cried  my 
little  brother.  It  is  about  the  same  with  a  great 
deal  of  '  society '  politeness  —  the  plums  don't  go 
all  the  way  through.  Politeness  of  the  heart  is  the 
kind  for  me.     I  wish  there  were  more  of  it." 

"  Why  don't  you  invite  these  desirable  ladies  by 
themselves  ?  "  husband  asked. 

"  That,"  said  I, "  would  look  like  a  sort  of  f  encing- 
off.  Their  inference  might  be  :  '  We  are  not  good 
enough  to  come  with  the  rich  folk  ;  she  has  us  by 
ourselves.'  And  besides,  I  have  no  right  to  invite 
them.  Our  slight  acquaintance  does  not  warrant 
me  in  taking  that  liberty.  I  wish  I  were  going  to 
Mrs.  W.'s  this  very  evening.  Those  friends  of 
hers  are  to  be  there,  and  I  know  what  they  are 
meaning  to  talk  about :  it  is  a  subject  in  which  I 
am  deeply  interested.  Their  evening  has  an  idea 
to  it.  But  what  is  my  evening  to  be?  I  go  in 
gorgeous  array,  and  meet  other  women  in  gorgeous 
array.  They  look  at  my  clothes,  and  I  look  at 
theirs,      Wq   talk   politely   about  nothing.      The 


Society.  185 

rooms  are  spacious,  the  furnishing  magnificent,  the 
lights  brilliant;  the  dresses  elegant,  the  manners 
are  polished,  every  voice  has  the  true  society  accent ; 
but,  somehow,  the  whole  thing  is  unsatisfying. 
There  is  no  idea  to  it,  no  depth  —  it  is  all  surface 
work.     The  plums  don't  go  all  the  way  through." 

"  But  evenings  would  be  too  prosy  if  they  all 
had  ideas  to  them,"  said  husband  ;  "  we  don't  want 
to  be  always  pondering  upon  serious  matters ;  we 
want. some  fun." 

"  The  very  thing  I  "  said  I.  "  In  speaking  of 
evenings  with  ideas  to  them,  I  meant  evenings  with 
something  really  enjoyable.  This  something  need 
not  always  be  serious.  Wit,  humor,  bright  talk, 
spirited  games,  any  evening  which  gave  us  these, 
would  have  an  idea  to  it.  These  are  plums,  and 
of  a  good  kind,  too.  But  some  of  us  don't  often 
get  them.  We  are  hedged  in  from  them  by  'so- 
ciety '  red  tape,  '  society  '  style,  '  society  '  manners 
and  customs.  And  this  '  society  '  is  held  together 
by  money.  The  society  which  is  held  together  by 
money  or  position,  is  not  society  at  all.  It  is  only 
a  coming  in  contact.  We  meet,  not  heart  to  heart, 
but  purse  to  purse.  I  wish  matters  were  so  ar- 
ranged that  those  interested  in  the  same  ideas  and 
objects,  and  who  are  otherwise  mutually  attracted. 


I S6  Society. 

might  come  together.  Where  two  people  are  con- 
versing, each  responsive  to  the  other,  each  getting 
something  from  the  other,  each  drawn  to  the  other 
by  qualities  of  mind  and  character,  what  difference 
can  it  make  that  one  has  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  the  other  not  a  hundred  ?  This  consider- 
ation has  no  bearing  upon  the  matter  whatever." 

"  To  be  sure  it  hasn't,"  said  husband ;  "  but 
your  new  kind  of  society,  your  society  based  on  the 
broad  foundation  of  ideas  and  character  and  natural 
attraction,  will  not  be  built  up  in  our  day.  Gold 
is  king,  and  there  are  few  who  will  not  bow  be- 
fore it." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  I ;  "  and  I  do  think  this  uni- 
versal deference  to  wealth  is  abominable  I  In  the 
case  of  the  rich  man  and  poor  man,  supposed  just 
now,  the  two  were  represented  as  being,  in  other 
respects,  equal.  Let  us  suppose  the  poor  man  to 
be  exceptionally  worthy  and  intelligent  and  com- 
panionable, and  the  rich  man  exceptionaly  unworthy 
and  stupid  and  unattractive,  perhaps  immoral.  To 
him,  still,  will  be  given  the  attentions  and  the 
deference  of  those  first  people  ;  that  is,  generally 
speaking." 

"  True,"  said  husband ;  "  but  I  want  to  make  a 
point  here.     This  universal  deference,  of  which  we 


Society.  187 

speak,  is  it  paid  wholly  to  the  money  ?  Is  it  not 
paid  partly  to  the  skill  and  energy  by  which  the 
money  was  gained  ?  " 

"•  There  may  be  something  in  this,"  said  I ;  "  still, 
a  man  who,  after  having  amassed  a  fortune,  is  re- 
duced to  poverty,  even  if  it  be  through  causes  be- 
yond his  control,  is  not  usually  courted,  and  fawned 
upon  and  deferred  to ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
man  who  gains  vast  wealth  by  merely  inheriting  it, 
is  not  usually  slighted  or  avoided." 

"  Well,  I  have  another  point,"  said  husband. 
"  In  the  case  of  your  rich  man,  the  attentions  and 
the  deference  would  have  come  not  only  from  these 
first  families,  but  from  the  second,  third,  fifth,  tenth. 
These  would  all  show  by  manners,  speech  and  ac- 
tions, their  own  exalted  opinion  of  wealth.  Even 
your  Mrs.  W.,  good  and  bright  and  delightful  and 
superior  as  she  is,  if  sitting  by  us  at  this  moment 
in  familiar  conversation,  would  be  sure  to  betray, 
in  some  way,  that  she  considered  the  familiarity  an 
honor  to  herself, —  and  all  because  we  are  rich,  and 
she  is  not." 

"  If  she  supposed  that  we  ourselves  so  considered 
it,  she  would  do  us  a  wrong,"  said  I. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  wrongs  which  many  of  the 
rich  have  to  suffer,"  said  husband.     "  They  are  sup- 


1 88  Society. 

posed  to  feel  grander  than  they  do  feel,  to  think 
more  of  money  and  less  of  merit  than  they  do 
tliink.  But  even  some  rich  people  have  common 
sense." 

"  Still,  as  a  general  thing,"  said  I,  "  I  think  that 
rich  people  have  given  poor  people  cause  to  feel  as 
you  say  Mrs.  W.  would  feel." 

Our  talk  was  interrupted  here  ;  but  I  wish  your 
Gathering  would  take  up  this  subject  of  deference 
to  wealth,  and  either  talk  about  it,  or  have  a  paper 
written  upon  it.  I  would  like  exceedingly  to  get 
your  views  of  the  matter. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Beacon  Street  Woman. 


XXII. 

GO   INTO   THE  HOUSE  WHEN  IT  RAINS. 

A    PAPER    READ    AT    A    BYBURY    GATHERING    BY 

THE   BYBURY  SCHOOLMA'AM. 

I  HAVE  been  asked  (said  Miss  Hunt)  to  comply 
with  Mrs.  Enbury's  suggestion,  and  write  something 
on  the  subject  of  Deference  to  Wealth. 

You  will  find  my  text  in  the  last  part  of  an  old 
saying :  "  Go  into  the  house  when  it  rains."  The 
discourse  will  not  start  from  its  text,  but  will  ar- 
rive at  it. 

Mrs.  Enbury,  in  her  last  communication,  spoke 
of  "society"  people,  as  a  class,  fenced  in,  set  apart. 
This  reminded  me  of  a  remark  I  once  heard  made 
by  a  *  societ}^ "  young  lady.  She  was  past  the  first 
flush  of  youth,  well  educated,  cultured,  and,  to  a 
considerable  degree,  scientific.  I  mention  these  as 
being  conditions  under  which  one  might  expect  to 
find  the  gold  of  common  sense.  We  were  fellow- 
boarders,  and  I  really  felt  grateful  to  her  for  af- 

189 


1 9©        Go  Into  the  House   IV/ien  it  Rains. 

fording  me  so  much  entertainment.  The  way  in 
which  she  graduated  her  mannere,  for  instance, 
was  vastly  amusing.  To  those  above  her  in  the 
"  society  "  scale  she  was  deferential ;  to  her  equals, 
cordial;  to  those  a  very  little  below,  affable;  to 
those  just  outside  the  charmed  circle,  condescend- 
ing ;  to  those  far  outside,  frigid. 

But  now  comes  the  curious  part  of  the  matter. 
The  very  people  who  laughed  at  or  were  affronted 
at  her  for  looking  down  on  them  did  themselves 
look  down  on  others,  and  these  on  others,  and 
these  on  others,  and  so  on.  And  this  is  the  case 
generally.  The  kind  of  people  who  rank  number 
two,  or  lower,  in  the  city,  are  often  among  the 
number  ones  of  the  towns,  associating  on  equal 
terms  only  with  those  of  their  own  social  standing, ' 
and  patronizing,  or  condescending  to,  or  holding 
aloof  from,  the  lower  grades,  so  called.  Either 
directly  or  indirectly  their  children  are  taught  to 
consider  themselves  as  being  in  some  way  set  apart. 
They  must  walk  and  talk  and  play  and  study  only 
with  their  set.  There  must  be  separate  schools  for 
them — select,  private.  If  this  were  to  secure  more 
satisfactory  teaching,  well  and  good.  But  often  the 
avowed  object  is  that  our  children  need  not  associ- 
ate with  everybody's  children.     Now  a  friend  of 


Go  Into  the  House    IV/ieu  it  Rains.        191 

mine,  who  has  taught  schools  made  up  of  our  chil- 
dren and  schools  made  up  of  everybody's  children, 
tells  me  that  the  average  of  character  was  about  the 
same  in  both.  There  was  no  despicable  trait,  no 
wickedness,  no  vice  even,  among  the  latter  that 
was  not  also  found  among  the  former.  It  is  true 
that  among  everybody's  children  may  be  found 
some  who  are  rough  in  speech  and  manners,  but 
these  startling  and  repulsive  exhibitions  are  more 
likely  to  repel  than  to  attract  our  children.  The 
worst  danger  comes  not  from  these,  but  from  evil 
influences  which  work  unnoticed. 

By  this  fencing  off  at  school,  and  by  certain 
other  ways,  our  childi-en,  and  especially  our  girls 
are  made  to  grow  up  into  the  belief  that  they  are 
formed  of  a  superior  kind  of  clay,  and  this  belief 
affects  their  behavior  even  on  occasions  when  they 
and  everybody's  children  meet  on»what  is  supposed 
to  be  common  ground.  A  country  town  needs,  say 
a  new  hJiU,  or  a  clock,  or  a  fountain,  and  to  com- 
plete the  necessary  funds,  "  sociables "  are  held, 
which  the  whole  town  is  asked  to  attend  and  sup- 
port, the  idea  being  that  all  who  do  attend  come 
together  sociably  and  on  an  equal  footing.  Among 
the  girls  present  are  some  of  our  children,  now  in 
the  beginning  of  their  teens.     It  is  curious  to  ob- 


192        Go  Into  the  House    When  it  Rains. 

serve  how,  even  at  that  tender  age,  they  show  the 
spirit  of  caste.  It  is  shown  in  various  ways :  by 
smiles,  glances,  and  rude  whisperings ;  by  a  gath- 
ering up  of  the  skirts  when  any  of  the  "  low " 
people  come  near,  and  by  a  marked  avoidance  of 
contact  with  "low"  people,  whether  in  sitting, 
standing,  or  dancing. 

Usually  they  are  encouraged  in  this  behavior  by 
home  influences,  if  not  by  direct  home  teachings. 
Says  dainty  little  Miss  Geraldine  Matilda  X.,  in 
family  circle  next  morning : 

"  Tliat  great  lubberly,  stupid  Dick  Hopkins,  that 
used  to  work  in  our  garden,  asked  me  to  dance 
with  him !     The  idea !     Of  course  I  refused." 

"  Not  quite  the  thing,  perhaps,  in  a  social  assem- 
blage," says  pa,  "  but  I  don't  much  blame  you." 

"  One  has  to  meet  that  sort  of  people  in  promis- 
cuous gatherings,"  says  ma. 

"He  had  on  quite  good-looking  clothes,  but 
nothing  will  ever  be  made  of  him,"  says  Auntie. 

Now  if  this  stupid  and  lubberly  Dick  had  been 
the  son  of  a  millionaire  Miss  Geraldine  Matilda 
would  probably  not  have  refused  to  dance  with 
him,  or  if  she  had,  the  home  authorities  would  not 
have  sanctioned  the  refusal. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  he  can't  help  his  looks,  you 


Go  Into  the  House   When  it  Rains.        193 

know.  He  may  not  be  quite  as  bright  as  some, 
but  he  should  not  be  slighted  on  that  account. 
We  ought  to  be  careful  of  people's  feelings.  One 
should  not  think  of  one's  own  pleasure  altogether." 

Excellent  sentiments !  Far  too  excellent  to  be 
restricted  to  the  narrow  limits  of  a  clique.  Applied 
to  the  Dick  Hopkins  case  they  might  be  expressed 
somewhat  in  this  way :  "  It  is  better  that  one  should 
suffer  fifteen  minutes'  discomfort,  or  even  to  soil 
one's  gloves,  than  to  run  the  risk  of  hurting  a  per- 
son's feelings." 

Yes,  the  application  of  these  sentiments  should 
be  as  wide  as  humanity.  "  Behind  every  face  is  a 
heart,  you  know "  —  emphasis  on  second  word. 
This  takes  in  all:  the  stupid,  the  ungainly,  the 
poverty-stricken,  even  the  wicked.  Behind  every 
face  is  a  heart  to  feel.  Those  who  perceive  this 
truth  and  are  guided  by  it  need  never  study  the 
art  of  politeness.  Their  politeness  will  not  be  an 
art ;  it  will  be  natural.  It  will  show  itself  sponta- 
neously, and  to  the  lowly  as  well  as  to  the  lofty. 
A  rose  by  the  side  of  a  ditch  is  still  a  rose,  and 
can't  be  anything  less.  So  the  politeness  of  a  man 
or  a  woman,  or  a  schoolgirl  or  a  schoolboy,  if  it  be 
genuine,  will  reveal  itself  in  the  hovel  as  surely  as 
in  the  palace. 


194       Go  Into  the  House   When  it  Rains. 

"  I  hear  your  brother  is  going  to  build  a  house ; 
can  he  afford  it?"  asked  a  well-to-do  lady  of  a  shop 
girl  with  whom  she  had  a  slight  acquaintance. 
The  lady  would  not  have  presumed  to  ask  such  a 
question  of  a  person  of  her  own  standing,  suppos- 
ing the  degree  of  acquaintanceship  to  have  been 
the  same.  This  assumption  of  superiority  is  often 
seen  in  the  behavior  of  those  who  are  endeavoring 
to  assist  the  poor  by  visiting,  by  free  evening 
schools,  free  entertainments,  etc.  The  I-am-better- 
than-thou  spirit  shows  itself  in  every  tone,  look, 
word,  and  movement.  They  reach  out  a  helping 
hand,  but  they  make  a  very  long  arm,  in  doing  it. 
They  feel  for  the  poor,  but  not  with  them. 

I  have  a  friend  who  supports  herself  and  her 
mother  by  sewing.  A  gentleman  of  her  town  —  a 
smooth,  affable  gentleman,  punctilious  in  etiquette 
within  certain  social  limits  —  called  to  see  her  on  a 
matter  of  business,  and  kept  his  hat  on  during  the 
whole  interview.  She  had  not  money  enough  to 
raise  it  from  his  head.  What  a  lever  money  is,  to 
be  sure  I  My  friend  is  not  a  person  to  be  disturbed 
by  anything  of  the  sort ;  but  oh !  this  spirit  of  caste, 
how  I  do  hate  and  detest  it  I  It  is  not  confined  to 
the  wealthy.  Dick  Hopkins  and  his  set  and  the 
shop  giii  and  her  set  have  each,  probably,  a  set 


Go  Into  the  House   When  it  Rains.        195 

below  them  of  whom  they  speak  as  that  sort  of 
people.  In  complaining  of  the  caste  spirit,  we  are 
much  more  likely  to  look  above  to  see  how  it  works 
down  upon  oui-selves,  than  below  to  see  how  it 
works  from  ourselves  down  upon  others. 

But,  speaking  of  deference  to  wealth,  did  you 
ever  notice  how,  in  a  country  town,  the  opinion  of 
this  or  that  rich  man  is  quoted  from  mouth  to 
mouth  ?  "  'Squire  X.  says  thus  and  so."  This  is 
enough  to  insure  "  thus  and  so  "  a  respectable  con- 
sideration. 'Squire  X.  belongs  to  the  number  ones, 
and,  though  he  may  possess  even  less  judgment, 
learning,  and  intelligence  than  some  of  the  number 
twos,  threes  and  fours,  yet  the  light  from  liis  gold 
shines  upon  his  opinion  and  so  illuminates  and 
transfigures  it  that  it  seems  worthy  of  all  admira- 
tion. A  bow,  a  smile,  a  handshake,  from  the  great 
man,  how  some  of  his  poorer  fellow  mortals  enjoy 
them,  and  boast  of  them,  and  treasure  the  remem- 
brance of  them!  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
slights  he  gives  —  often  unintentionally,  such,  for 
instance,  as  absence  of  recognition  on  the  street, 
how  much  is  made  of  them !  Coming  from  each 
other  they  would  scarcely  be  noticed,  but  coming 
from  him  they  rankle  and  fester,  and  are  seldom 
forgotten.     All  these  —  the  keen  enjoyinent.  the 


196        Go  Into  the  House   When  it  Rains. 

boasting,  the  rankling,  the  festering  —  betray  def- 
erence to  wealth.  "  A  man's  a  man,  for  a'  that," 
and  character  makes  the  man,  and  if  you  divide 
the  community  according  to  character  the  dividing 
line  will  not  run  horizontally  along  any  one  level, 
but  up  and  down,  cutting  right  through  caste 
boundaries,  from  low  to  high  and  high  to  low. 

All  very  well,  you  say,  and  we  knew  it  before, 
but  this  absurd  deference  still  remains.  The  evil 
exists ;  how  will  you  cure  it  ? 

The  only  cure  I  can  think  of  is  self-respect.  I 
don't  mean  self-sufficiency  or  self-assertion,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort.  I  mean  a  respect  for  and  a. de- 
votion to  one's  own  objects  in  life.  If  we  are  sure 
of  our  own  integrity,  and  if  we  have  consecrated 
our  lives  to  certain  worthy  objects,  what  will  it 
matter  to  us  whether  a  rich  man's  hat  is  in  his  hand 
or  on  his  head,  or  whether  a  rich  woman  invites  us 
or  slights  us  ?  We  are  living  not  for  their  notice 
or  deference,  but  for  purposes  of  our  own.  From 
their  slights,  frowns,  incivilities,  rudenesses,  conde- 
scensions, insults,  we  can  always  take  refuge  in 
ourselves.  We  can  go  into  the  house  when  it 
rains.  The  whole  of  the  saying  is,  "He  doesn't 
know  enough  to  go  into  the  house  when  it  rains." 
Just  so.     There  are  some  who  do  not  know  enough ; 


Go  Into  the  House   When  it  Rains.        197 

yes,  and  some  who  have  no  house.  People,  I  mean, 
whose  lives  are  not  consecrated  to  any  worthy  pur- 
poses ;  who  have  set  up  for  themselves  no  high 
mark  to  attain ;  who  take  no  thought  for  the  wel- 
fare of  others ;  whose  chief  anxiety  is  to  make  a 
good  appearance,  to  keep  in  the  ffvsliion,  to  support 
a  certain  style ;  who  watch  and  wait  to  take  their 
cue  from  the  number  ones,  endeavoring  always  to 
conduct  as  certain  of  these  would  think  was 
proper,  never  daring  to  assert  their  own  opinions" 
— perhaps  having  none  to  assert.  That  people 
like  these  are  elated  or  depressed  by  the  smiles  or 
slights  of  the  X.  family  is  unavoidable,  for  they 
have  nothing  in  themselves  to  fall  back  upon.  But 
the  other  kind  —  those  who  dare  to  have  ideas  of 
their  own,  who  have  their  life-work  marked  out, 
and  who  are  striving  to  do  something  really  worth 
doing  both  for  themselves  and  for  others  —  these 
will  live  and  move  and  have  their  being,  and 
find  happiness,  too,  independent  of  'Squire  X.,  or 
Madam  X.,  or  of  Miss  Geraldine  Matilda. 


xxm. 

COJOIONALITIES.  —  A  PAPER  EEAD  AT  A  BYBUEY 
GATHERING,   BY  MARY  ANN  POTTER. 

When  Miss  Hunt  told  us,  the  other  evening, 
that  the  average  of  character  is  about  the  same  in 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the 
same  thing  might  be  said  of  enjoyment,  and  not 
only  so,  but  that  often  the  enjoyments  of  the  rich  and 
of  the  poor  are  alike  in  kind.  Perhaps  it  is  worth 
while  to  make  a  note  of  these ;  yes,  it  is.  Any- 
thing is  worth  while  which  helps  to  knock  down 
partition  walls  and  bring  people  together  on  the 
common  ground  of  humanity. 

To  begin  with,  suppose  we  mention  the  own 
folks  pleasure.  How  delightful  it  is  when  own 
folks  meet  at  family  gatherings !  At  Thanksgiv- 
ing, for  instance;  Thanksgiving  at  the  old  farm- 
house. A  homely  place,  but  still  home,  and  dear 
to  many  for  that  reason.  Those  who  can  do  so  go 
the  day  before  and  have  the  pleasure  of  watching, 

198 


Commonalities.  199 

and  waiting,  and  wondering.  Will  Aunt  Celia's 
baby  get  well  soon  enough?  Can  Cousin  Ben 
leave  his  store  in  the  city?  Will  Aunt  Anna's 
school  close  in  time?  Will  Uncle  Jack  take  pains 
to  travel  two  days  and  a  night? 

When  the  day  actually  arrives,  the  excitement  is 
at  its  height.  Not  quite  at  its  height,  though,  for 
it  grows  higher  with  every  fresh  arrival.  Aunt 
Celia's  baby  did  get  well,  and  here  he  is,  rosy  as  a 
posy,  and  children  of  all  sizes,  from  two  feet  high 
to  six  feet  inclusive,  are  admiring  and  worshiping 

—  grandpa  and  grandma  wiping  misty  spectacles 

—  and  Ben  did  leave  his  store,  and  Aunt  Anna's 
school  did  close  in  time,  and  at  the  last  moment, 
before  dinner.  Uncle  Jack,  who  has  been  given  up, 
but  who  did  take  pains  to  travel  two  days  and  a 
night,  bursts  in,  unexpectedly,  and  joy  abounds, 
and  those  who  have  no  spectacles  wipe  their  eyes 
instead. 

There  are  similar  goings  on  at  Squire  X.'s,  the 
great  man  of  the  town,  but,  though  in  these  two 
places  the  surroundings  differ,  the  kind  of  happi- 
ness enjoyed  does  not. 

Across  the  field  stands  a  small,  dingy  house, 
scarcely  more  than  a  hovel.  The  old  couple  who 
live  there  are  awaiting  the  arrival  of  their  two 


200  Commonalities. 

daughters,  who  woik  out  at  a  distant  town.  The 
fatlier  and  mother  aie  as  poor  as  poverty,  but  by 
much  scrimping  they  have  managed  to  place  upon 
their  table,  that  day,  something  that  will  pass  for  a 
Thanksgiving  dinner.  It  is  almost  noon.  Oh  I  if 
they  should  not  come  after  all.  But  they  will. 
There  they  are !  Father  and  mother  meet  them  at 
the  door.  Wliat  ?  misty  glasses  again  ?  Yes ; 
tears  of  joy  are  here,  too.  Poverty  cannot  keep 
those  down.  They  well  up  from  the  heart,  and 
"  behind  every  face  is  a  heart,  you  know." 

But,  besides  these  meetings  of  kin  with  kin, 
there  are  the  delightful  seasons  spent  with  relations 
who  are  no  kin  at  all ;  that  is,  no  flesh  and  blood 
kin.  Heart  and  soul  relations  these  are,  and  the 
nobler  the  hearts  and  souls  the  more  intensely  de- 
lightful the  relationship.  Among  the  enjoyments 
common  to  all  we  must  give  high  place  to  the 
kind  which  comes  from  the  intercourse  of  these  no 
kin  relations ;  congenial  spirits,  interested  in  the 
same  ideas,  actuated  alike  by  unselfish  purposes, 
devoted  alike  to  noble  objects,  showing  the  same 
enthusiasm,  the  same  worship  of  genius,  the  same 
delight  in  the  beautiful,  and  the  true,  and  the 
grand,  the  same  sympathy  with  suffering  in  all  its 
forms,  and  the  same  longing  to  relieve  it.     Rela- 


Commonalities.  201 

tionship  of  this  kind  needs  no  Family-Tree,  no 
attested  record  of  birth  and  parentage ;  it  is  re- 
vealed by  simple  tokens,  a  glance  of  the  eye,  a 
flush  of  the  cheek,  a  modulation  of  the  voice,  a 
pressure  of  the  hand. 

Along  with  these  precious  no  kin  relations, 
whom  we  have  the  delight  of  meeting  face  to  face, 
must  be  mentioned  others  of  the  same  kind,  whom 
we  never  saw,  and  from  whom  we  are  separated  by 
space  or  time,  perhaps  by  a  great  deal  of  one  or 
the  other;  perhaps  by  thousands  of  miles,  or  by  thou- 
sands of  years.  But  we  have  been  introduced  to 
them  by  the  inventor  of  printing,  and  we  ought  to 
go  down  on  our  bended  knees  to  him  for  that  same. 
Through  his  letters  of  introduction  we  are  made 
acquainted  with,  oh !  how  many,  whom,  because  of 
their  purity,  or  their  sweetness,  or  their  greatness, 
or  their  sacrifices  for  humanity,  it  is  a  blessing  to 
know.  What  an  inspiration  to  us  are  their  lives, 
these  noble  ones,  these  royal  ones  of  the  race! 
Obliterate  all  knowledge  of  them,  and  how  poor 
and  barren  the  world  would  seem.  The  degree  of 
our  relationship  to  them  depends  upon  the  degree 
to  which  our  natures  respond  to  theirs ;  but  there 
is  seldom  a  human  heart  which  feels  no  thrill  of 
pleasure  at  a  tale  of  noble  men  and  noble  deeds, 


202  Commonalities. 

and  this  pleasure  is  of  the  same  kind,  whether  the 
heart  throbs  beneath  cloth  of  gold  or  homespun 
gray.  It  makes  up  a  part  of  tlie  enjoyment  derived 
from  books,  and  this,  by  the  way,  should  be  men- 
tioned as  one  by  itself  among  our  enjoyments, 
common  to  aU.  A  well-told  story;  a  beautiful 
thought  beautifully  expressed ;  a  keen  stroke  of 
wit ;  a  delicious  bit  of  humor ;  interesting  knowl- 
edge, whether  of  ourselves  or  of  anything  else  in 
creation ;  the  pleasure  got  from  these  is  not  graded 
on  any  money  scale.  And  think  what  a  pleasure 
it  is  !  But  we  cannot.  We  can  form  no  idea  of 
the  blank  which  would  be  left  were  this  suddenly 
stricken  out.  Even  in  fiction  there  are  characters ; 
yes,  many  characters  whose  loss  would  make  the 
world  poorer. 

The  enjoyment  of  beauty,  as  shown  in  nature,  is 
another  with  which  money  has  no  concern.  It  is 
spontaneous.  In  looking  at  a  rose,  for  instance, 
or  a  pond  lily,  or  a  spray  of  mayflowers,  we  do  not 
stop  to  decide  whether  we  will  or  will  not  admire 
these.  The  admiration  comes  of  itself.  It  is  the 
response  which  our  sense  of  the  beautiful  gives  to 
beauty.  We  are  pleased  without  our  consent,  and 
certainly  without  any  help  from  our  purses.  And 
as  with  flowers  so  with  other  natural  objects,  the 


Commonalities.  203 

tracery  of  branches  against  the  sky,  the  curve  of 
the  stream,  the  verdure  of  its  banks,  the  varied 
picture  of  woods,  and  fields,  and  hills,  the  blue  of 
the  heavens,  the  grandeur  of  the  ocean,  the  glory 
of  sunsets. 

I  don't  know  why  has  been  kept  to  the  last  the 
highest  and  best  of  all  enjoyments,  that  of  giving 
enjoyment.  If  all  others  fail,  tliis  endures.  Though 
we  have  no  kindred,  no  congenial  associates,  no 
books,  though  from  excess  of  grief,  we  may  say  of 
beautiful  things,  "  there  is  no  pleasure  in  them," 
yet,  the  pleasure  of  giving  pleasure,  and  of  being 
of  service  to  others,  is  still  left  us ;  and  so  long  as 
there  are  the  sick  who  need  attentions,  the  afflicted 
who  need  sympathy,  the  unfortunate  who  need  to 
be  comforted,  the  downfallen  who  need  encourage- 
ment, and  lonely  ones  in  need  of  companionship, 
nobody's  life  need  be  joyless.  Even  the  invalid, 
confined  to  his  bed  or  his  chair,  may  still  take 
thought  for  others,  and  may,  unconsciously,  be  of 
service  to  others,  by  making  himself  an  example 
of  patience  and  often  of  cheerfulness. 

At  the  close  of  this  paper  Miss  'Cindy  started  a 
conversation  upon  it,  by  exclaiming,  "Now,  it 
seems  to  me  that  Mary  Ann's  list  of  enjoyments 
takes  in  the  very  best  ones  there  are  !  " 


XXIV. 


FASHION. 


"  When  we  were  little  girls,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"  Mary  Ann  and  I  used  sometimes  to  amuse  our- 
selves by  supposing.  We  supposed  that  certain 
things  did  not  exist,  and  then  imagined  the  con- 
sequences. Suppose  there  were  no  ocean,  no  moon, 
no  birds,  no  school-teacher,  no  grass,  no  stores. 
Now  suppose  that  we  grown-up  children  amuse 
ourselves  by  supposing  what  if  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  Fasliion  I " 

"  We  should  lose  lots  and  lots  of  pretty  things 
and  pretty  ways  of  doing  things,"  said  Miss  Luce. 

"  And  dear  me  I "  cried  Mattie  Johnson,  "  what  a 
muddle  we  should  be  in !  Nobody  would  know 
how  to  have  anything  made,  we  should  all  go  on 
at  our  own  heads,  and  as  likely  as  not  make  frights 
of  ourselves.  It  won't  do  to  run  a  tilt  against 
beauty.  You  know  Mary  Ann's  paper  said  we  are 
made  to  like  it,  and  must  like  it." 

204 


Fashion.  205 

"  But  beauty  and  fashion  are  not  the  same," 
said  Mary  Ann ;  "  many  of  the  fashions  seem  ugly 
until  we  have  become  used  to  them." 

"  Still,  it  must  be  allowed  that  we  do  gain  some 
really  pretty  things  by  this  everlasting  striving 
after  something  new,"  said  Miss  Luce  ;  "  think  of 
the  lovely  artificial  flowers,  and  ribbons,  and  shades 
of  ribbons,  and  dress  goods,  and  shades  of  di-ess 
goods !  " 

"  I  don't  admit  that  we  need  be  under  obliga- 
tion to  fashion  for  these,"  said  Miss  Hunt.  "  Even 
were  there  no  such  thing  as  fashion,  the  makers  of 
such  articles  would  be  constantly  trying  to  pro- 
duce new  kinds,  just  as  painters  are  constantly 
trying  to  produce  new  pictures.  The  painter 
strives  to  make  also  a  better  picture.  And  no 
doubt  these  others  would  strive  more  than  they 
now  do  to  improve  in  their  work,  if  the  demand 
were  not  chiefly  for  something  new.  So  the  chances 
are  that  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  fashion  we 
should  get  more  of  real  beauty  in  design  and 
workmanship  than  we  get  now.  And  there  would 
be  no  lack  of  variety,  for  all  the  numerous  design- 
ers and  artists  would  have  each  his  or  her  own 
ideas  to  work  out,  and  besides  there  would  lie  very 
many  different  tastes  to  please." 


2o6  Fashion. 

"  No  such  thing  as  fashion  ? "  said  Eunice  Hai-t- 
man,  speaking  low,  and  knitting  her  brows  thought- 
fully. "  Excuse  me  for  repeating  your  words,  but 
I  cannot  conceive  the  possibility  of  such  a  condi- 
tion. No  watching  and  waiting  to  find  out  what 
they  are  going  to  wear?  No  labor  of  bringing 
old  clothes  into  new  style  ?  Entire  deliverance 
—  entire  —  from  the  fear  of  the  shame  of  looking 
old-fashioned  ?  Buy  and  make  our  clothes  just  as 
suits  our  own  means,  our  own  tastes,  our  own  con- 
venience, and  even  wear  our  old  ones  as  long 
as  we  please  ?  Enjoy  all  this  freedom  and  not  be 
called  singular  ?  Why,  it  is  utterly  beyond  me  to 
imagine  myself  being  let  loose  to  an  extent  like 
that ! "  and  Eunice  drew  a  long  breath  at  the  bare 
idea  of  such  an  escape. 

"  This  is  what  we  may  call  the  rule  of  individ- 
uality in  dress,"  said  Miss  Hunt.  "  Governed  by 
this  rule  all  persons  will  clothe  themselves  as  they 
individually  can,  or  please,  or  must.  When  there's 
no  such  thing  as  fashion  it  will  not  be  singular  to 
follow  this  rule ;  it  will  be  exceedingly  plural,  for 
everybody  will  do  so." 

"I  wish  everybody  were  doing  so  now,"  said 
Miss  'Cindy.  "  I  think  a  walk  through  the  streets 
of  a  town  would  be  far  more  entertaining  if  the 


Fashion.  207 

men  and  women  were  dressed  very  much  unlike, 
than  now  when  they  dress  very  much  alike." 

"I  remember  reading  of  Thoreau,"  said  Miss 
Hunt,  "  that  once  when  he  gave  a  tailor  directions 
for  making  him  a  suit  of  clothes  he  demurred,  and 
said:  'But  they  don't  make  them  that  way.'  'I 
know  it,'  said  Thoreau,  '  but  they're  going  to.'  " 

"  While  we  are  supposing,"  said  Mary  Ann, 
"  let  lis  suppose  what  would  be  the  gain  if  the  time 
and  thought  and  labor  spent  in  cities,  towns  and 
villages  in  keeping  up  with  the  fashions  were  set 
free  and  given  to  better  things ;  given,  say,  to 
literature,  to  the  study  of  the  sciences,  to  out- 
doors employments,  to  painting,  music,  sculpture,  to 
works  of  benevolence.  All  these  to  be  mingled 
with  fun  and  jolly  good  times.  But  so  enormous 
a  gain  as  that  is  beyond  our  feeble  supposings. 
Even  those  who  are  rich  enough  to  hire  every 
stitch  of  their  sewing  done  are  concerned  in  this 
supposition,  for  they  are  obliged  to  consult  fashion 
plates  and  visit  openings  and  search  out  and  select 
materials  and  choose  between  styles  and  give 
orders;  and  if  such  people  would  gain  by  this 
imagined  freedom  how  much  more  would  those 
who  must  themselves  ply  the  needle  and  tread  the 
treadle?    Remember  we  are  not  now  speaking  of 


'^208  Fashion. 

dress  in  itself,  but  of  following  the  forever-chang- 
ing fashions.  It  is  a  sort  of  duty  to  give  a  reason- 
able amount  of  time  and  thought  and  work  to  the 
choosing  and  the  making  of  our  garments.  A 
dress  ought  to  be  a  thing  of  beauty." 

"  And  a  joy  forever,"  said  Miss  Cindy ;  "  that  is, 
a  reasonable  forever,  but  now  it  is  a  joy  only  while 
the  fashion  lasts.  What  a  provoking  slavery  this 
fashion  slavery  is,  to  be  sure !  Fools  lead  the  way 
and  the  wise  are  obliged  to  follow.  Sometimes  the 
wise  rebel  at  first,  but  Fashion  isn't  a  bit  concerned 
at  their  rebellion.  She  knows  they  '11  submit 
sooner  or  later.  I  wonder  if  this  state  of  things 
will  ever  change." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Hunt ;  "  there  are 
forces  at  work  which  must  change  it.  At  school 
our  philosophy  class  used  to  recite  this  rule, 
or  axiom:  *  Where  one  thing  is  another  can- 
not be.'  According  to  this  rule,  why,  if  another 
thing  pushes  out  one  thing,  one  thing  will  dis- 
appear. And  this  is  what  is  taking  place  now. 
Fasliion  worship  among  women  is  bemg  pushed 
out  by  something  better.  Thanks  to  the  iufluence 
of  what  is  called  the  Woman's  Rights  Movement, 
women  are  waking  up  and  looking  up  and  work- 
ing up.     They  are  beginning  to  have  higher  aims 


Fas/lion.  209 

than  the  aim  of  keeping  in  the  fashion.  They  are 
becoming  scliolars,  writers,  preachei-s,  lawyers,  pliy- 
sicians,  artists.  Women  who  are  mothers  are  be- 
ginning to  realize  what  that  high  calling  demands 
from  them  in  the  way  of  culture  and  enlighten- 
ment and  preparation.  Please  observe,  that  ac- 
cording to  our  pliilosophy  rule  it  is  simply  impos- 
sible that  a  woman  who  is  devoting  herself  to  any 
of  these  high  purposes  can  at  the  same  time  be 
devoting  herself  to  fashion.  She  will  press  for- 
ward to  her  goal,  and  not  be  turned  aside  by  trivial 
considerations.  A  person  bound  to  Washington 
does  not  stop  at  the  way-stations,  or  take  this  or 
that  little  branch  railway." 

"  I  think  the  change  you  speak  of  has  more  than 
begun,"  said  Eunice.  "The  advance  guard  have 
already  made  it.  When  I  was  in  the  city  last 
winter  I  saw  a  number  of  women  physicians,  wo- 
men students,  women  preachei'S  and  women  artists, 
who  were  behind  the  fashion  in  dress,  yet  nobody 
laughed  at  them  for  this.  It  seemed  to  be  gener- 
ally understood  that  they  were  occupied  with  mat- 
ters of  more  vital  importance.  Perhaps  sometime 
it  will  be  as  generally  understood  that  a  woman  or 
a  man  who  dresses  always  in  the  height  of  fashion, 
has  no  higher  ambition  than  to  do  so." 


210  Fashion. 

"  A  fish  on  dry  ground,  when  it  jumps,  always 
jumps  toward  the  water,"  said  Allen  Hartman,  "  'tis 
a  good  deal  so  with  folks.  Each  one  jumps  toward 
his  or  her  own  element." 

"  But  sometimes  this  matter  of  dress  stantls  in 
their  way,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "and  particularly  if 
they  are  not  strong.  I  know  a  young  girl  who 
began  a  course  of  study  in  a  certain  school.  Her 
poverty  showed  itself  in  her  dress.  Not  having 
strength  enough  to  bear  up  under  the  slights  which, 
to  the  shame  of  the  others  be  it  spoken,  she  had  to 
endure  on  that  account,  she  left  the  school." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  is  needed,"  said  Mr.  Johnson. 
"There  needs  to  be  a  Common-sense  Factory  estab- 
lished. It  must  be  large  enough  to  turn  out  com- 
mon-sense enough  for  two  kinds  of  people:  the 
kind  who-cannot  afford  to  wear  expensive  clothes, 
and  the  kind  who  can.  When  this  second  kind  get 
their  share  they  will  know  better  than  to  judge 
people  by  a  dress  standard,  and  when  the  first  kuid 
get  their  share  they  will  know  better  than  to  try  to 
dress  like  the  second  kind,  or  to  feel  ashamed  that 
they  cannot." 

"And  when  everybody  is  supplied  with  this 
common-sense,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "  then  everybody 
will  dress  according  to  their  own  tastes  or  means 


Fashion.  211 

or  convenience,  and  nobody  will  criticise  anybody 
for  doing  so." 

"This  brings  us  down  to  the  same  old  ground  of 
individuality,"  said  Eunice,  "  the  same,  I  mean,  to 
which  Miss  Hunt's  paper  brought  us,  namely,  that 
each  person  must  have  his  or  her  own  purposes  in 
life,  and  not  be  turned  aside  from  it  by  slights  or 
ridicule." 

"Speaking  of  ridicule,"  said  Miss  Cindy,  "I 
should  like  to  say  to  those  men  who  laugh  at  wo- 
men for  inventing  and  following  absurd  fashions, 
ridicule  is  not  going  to  stop  this  thing.  It  must  be 
undermined  and  crowded  out  by  something  better." 

"One  way  of  crowding  it  out,"  said  Eunice, 
"would  be  this :  Let  every  growing-up  girl,  just  as 
well  as  every  growing-up  boy,  choose  some  partic- 
ular calling  or  pursuit  —  the  higher  the  better  — 
and  resolve  to  do  her  best  in  that  calling  or  pursuit." 


XXV. 

WHAT  SHALL  WE  DO  WITH  OUE  TIME? 
Reported  hy  a  Member. 

Our  fashion  talk  the  other  evening  brought  us 
squarely  up  to  the  question  —  How  much  time  is 
it  right  to  bestow  upon  dress  ?  This  opened  the 
broader  one  —  What  shall  we  do  with  our  time  ? 
which  soon  narrowed  to  —  "What  shall  the  mother 
do  with  her  time  ?  The  mothers  especially  con- 
sidered were  those  who  must  be  occupied  with 
household  cares  and  household  work. 

"Now  let  us  not  theorize,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"let  us  look  at  this  matter  in  a  practical  way. 
Suppose  a  woman  —  some  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z. —  is  anx- 
ious to  use  her  time  in  doing  the  very  best  things 
for  her  husband  and  children,  in  what  ways  shall 
she  use  it?    What  are  their  needs ? " 

"  Food,  to  begin  with,"  said  one. 

"  Clothes,"  said  another. 

"  A  neat  and  attractive  home,"  said  another. 


WAai  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time.      213 

Then  came  a  moment's  pause.  Everj'^body 
seemed  to  be  asking  themselves  what  the  husband 
and  children  could  possibly  need  besides  food, 
clothes,  and  a  neat  and  attractive  home. 

«  What  else  ?  "  asked  Miss  'Cindy. 

"  Companionship,"  said  Allen  Hartman.  "  Both 
husband  and  children  need  a  sympathizing  com- 
panion." 

"  And  in  case  of  the  children,"  said  Mr.  Johnson, 
"  the  companion  must  guide  and  instruct,  as  well 
as  sympathize." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that  we  are 
stating  these  needs  in  too  general  a  way.  Take 
the  first  one  mentioned  —  food.  In  some  houses 
food  is  provided  which  does  not  supply  the  need. 
I  have  sat  at  tables  on  which  there  was  scarcely  an 
article  fit  for  food.  As  one  thing  after  another 
was  passed  to  me  I  was  constantly  reminded  of  the 
question  little  children  sometimes  ask  each  other 
when  putting  in  their  mouths  some  doubtful  leaf, 
or  flower,  or  '  gum  ' :  '  Is  this  good  to  swaller  ? '  I 
should  say  that  the  husband  and  children  need 
not  food  merely,  but  food  that  is  good  to  »wal- 
ler.  Here  comes  in  a  use  for  Mts.  X.  Y.  Z.'s 
time." 

"  The  second  need  needs  some  kind  of  specifi- 


214      IV/iat  Shall  We  do    With  Our  Time. 

cations,"  said  Mr.  Johnson.  "  There  seems  to  mo 
to  be  a  good  deal  of  latitude  and  longitude  in  the 
matter  of  clothes." 

"  I  should  say,"  said  Mrs.  Eunice  Hartman,  "that 
clothing  must  be  clean  and  whole  and  tasteful,  and 
not  above  the  means  of  the  family." 

"  That  word  '  tasteful '  will  prove  a  stumbling- 
block,"  said  Mary  Ann.  "  Suppose  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z. 
thinks  many  flounces  tasteful,  or  many  tucks,  or 
braiding,  or  embroidery,  shall  she  use  up  time  in 
such  kinds  of  work  ?  You  see,  we  come  round  to 
our  old  puzzle  —  How  much  time  is  it  right  to 
spend  upon  dress  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that  our 
fourth-mentioned  need  —  that  of  companionship  — 
will  help  us  to  solve  the  puzzle.  It  strikes  me  that 
this  need  is  going  have  a  pretty  large  claim  on  the 
time  of  our  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  If  Mr.  X.  Y.  Z.  is  a  man 
of  ordinary  intelligence,  a  man  interested  in  the 
leading  movements  and  projects  and  ideas  and  peo- 
ple of  the  times,  then  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.,  to  be  his  *  sym- 
pathizing companion,'  must  get  a  knowledge  of 
these  matters,  which  getting  implies  the  use  of 
some  of  her  time  in  reading.  To  me  such  a  use  of 
her  time  seems  an  important  one,  for  I  have  ob- 
served  that   nothing  is   so   great  a  promoter   of 


What  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time?     215 

matrimonial  happiness  as  this  same  'sympathizing 
companionship.'  " 

"  And  you  know  the  children  are  concerned 
here,"  said  AUen;  "as  was  said  just  now,  they 
must  have  from  their  mother  not  only  companion- 
ship but  guidance  and  instruction." 

"  And  constant  care,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson ;  "  care 
for  their  health,  care  for  their  minds,  care  for  their 
characters." 

"  Here,  then,  is  another  use  for  time,"  said  Mary- 
Ann.  "  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  cannot  be  guide  and  in- 
structor to  her  children,  unless  she  uses  time  in 
fitting  herself  for  these  duties.  ^From  the  right 
kinds  of  reading  she  will  get  helpful  suggestions 
and  valuable  knowledge ;  but  reading  will  take  her 
time." 

"And  it  will  be  time  well  taken,"  said  Miss 
Hunt;  "for  suppose  our  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  knows 
enough  of  what  we  call  the  phenomena  of  nature 
to  speak  to  her  children  entertainingly  and  instruct- 
ively of  the  rain,  the  clouds,  the  sunshine,  winds, 
frost,  snow,  fog,  dew,  rainbows  ?  or  enough  of  the 
natural  history  of  plants  to  speak  to  her  children 
entertainingly  and  instructively  of  the  wonders  of 
plant  life  and  plant  growth  and  plant  uses,  and  the 
beauty   and  wonderfulness   of  flowers   and  their 


21 6      What  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time? 

division  into  families?  or  enough  of  the  natural 
history  of  live  creatures  to  give  her  children  some 
knowledge  of  the  habits  and  instincts  of  these, 
their  powere  of  reasoning  and  other  so-called  human 
traits,  as  affection,  jealousy,  love  of  praise,  dread  of 
blame,  and  their  mtelligence  generally  ?  Even  this 
one  subject  would  prove  almost  inexhaustible,  for 
there  would  be  bird  life,  you  know,  and  beast  life, 
and  fish  life,  and  insect  life ;  think  what  infinite 
variety ! " 

"And  think  what  an  excellent  thing  for  the 
children,"  said  Eunice,  "to  excite  their  curiosity 
in  regard  to  such  subjects  as  these,  rather  than  to 
let  them  run  loose  as  it  were,  and  so  almost  oblige 
them  to  seek  entertainment  in  the  bad  company 
found  in  the  streets,  or  in  the  worse  company  of 
the  runaways  and  bandits  and  pirates  and  low-toned 
women  of  dime  novels ;  or  in  the  frivolities  which 
so  often  engross  the  attention  of  young  girls  ! " 

"And  another  good  result  of  this  instructive 
companionship,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "would  be  to 
establish  a  mutual  bond  of  interest  between  mothers 
and  children." 

"  And  a  desirable  result  it  is,"  said  Eunice ;  "  I 
think  motl^era  and  children  have  too  little  in  com- 
mon." 


mini  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time?     217 

"  And  there  is  biography,"  continued  Miss  Hunt ; 
"  suppose  our  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.'s  knowledge  of  biog- 
raphy enables  her  to  entertain  her  children  with 
a  great  many  incidents  in  the  lives  of  a  great  many 
wise  and  good  and  noble  and  heroic  and  persistent 
and  energetic  and  self-sacrificing  men  and  women." 

"  Another  gain  for  the  children,"  said  Eunice  ; 
"a  gain  for  their  characters.  The  impressions 
made  upon  them  by  this  kind  of  entertainment 
would  probably  affect  their  whole  lives  for  good." 

"  And  suppose,"  Miss  Hunt  went  on,  "  that  she 
has  read  enough  on  the  subject  of  moral  training 
to  realize  the  effects  which  certain  forms  of  family 
discipline  and  the  general  goings  on  in  the  family 
may  have  upon  character,  in  some  cases  teaching 
deception,  in  others  selfishness,  in  others  injustice, 
in  others  hypocrisy,  in  others  vanity,  in  others 
rivalry,  and  so  on,  and  that  the  ideas  thus  gained 
make  her  exceedingly  cautious  in  her  own  family 
management." 

"  Very  good  for  the  children ! "  cried  Miss  'Cindy. 


XXVI. 

WHAT  SHALL  WE  DO   WITH  OUR  TIME  ? 

(Concluded^ 

"You  think,  then,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "that 
knowledge  such  as  has  been  mentioned  would  be  a 
great  help  to  a  mother  ?  " 

"Help  and  comfort  and  support!"  exclaimed 
the  young  married  woman,  with  emphasis. 

"Then  one  of  those  best  things  (the  'best  things' 
a  mother  can  do  for  her  children)  we  were  speaking 
of  is  to  get  some  or  all  of  these  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge?" 

"  Certainly,  if  she  can." 

"  And  as  reading  and  study  are  helps  in  getting 
them,  reading  and  study  must  be  counted  in  among 
our  best  things  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  saM  the  young  married  woman. 

"So  far  as  a  knowledge  of  out-door  objects  is 
concerned,"  said  Mrs.  Eunice  Hartman,  "  as  trees, 
218 


W/Mt  Sliall  We  do   With  Our  Timet     219 

plants,  flowers,  stones,  birds,  insects,  and  so  forth, 
there  are  other  helps.  Out-door  walks  with  her 
children  would  help  the  mother  both  to  get  and 
to  give  this  knowledge.  So  one  of  the  best  things 
would  be  for  her  to  take  them  to  the  woods  and 
fields,  the  sea  shore,  or  river  shore,  or  pond  shore, 
and  let  them  see  for  themselves  the  wonders  to  be 
found  everywhere.  Shall  our  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  use 
some  of  her  time  in  this  way  ?  " 

"I  —  think  so,"  said  the  young  manied  woman. 

"And  as  for  the  other  kinds  of  knowledge,"  said 
Mrs.  Johnson,  "  the  kinds  she  will  need  in  training 
up  her  children,  one  good  way  of  getting  these  is 
for  mothers  to  have  regular  talking  and  reading 
meetings  and  there  tell  each  other  what  they  have 
heard,  or  read,  or  found  out  by  experience,  con- 
cerning such  matters.  If  they  don't  know  enough 
themselves,  not  even  to  talk,  let  them  club  together 
and  buy  the  right  sort  of  books  and  magazines  and 
have  them  read  aloud.  Reading  is  almost  sure  to 
start  a  conversation.  I  have  seen  this  plan  of  reg- 
ular meetings  tried,  and  it  worked  well." 

"  Some  knowledge  of  natural  history  and  of  lit- 
erature, and,  in  fact,  of  a  good  many  things,  might 
be  got  by  the  same  means,"  said  Eunice. 

"  Then  one  of  the  best  things  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  can 


220      JVAat  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time? 

do  for  her  children,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  looking  at 
the  young  married  woman,  "  is  to  attend  meetings 
of  this  sort." 

**  Yes,  to  be  sure  it  is ! "  she  answered ;  "  but, 
oh  dear,  dear,  dear!  how  will  she  ever  get  time 
to  read  and  study,  to  go  to  such  meetings,  and  to 
read  and  to  talk  with  her  children  and  take  walks 
with  them?" 

"  Just  the  very  question  we  want  to  hear,"  said 
Miss  Hunt ;  "  when  it  is  asked  loudly  enough  and 
often  enough  and  earnestly  enough  and  anxiously 
enough  and  universally  enough  it  will  help  answer 
that  puzzling  question  —  How  much  time  shall  we 
spend  on  dress  ?  " 

" And  other  questions,  too,"  said  Eunice,  "as  — 
How  much  time  shall  be  spent  in  unnecessary  sew- 
ing of  any  sort ;  in  unnecessary  cooking ;  in  unne- 
cessary ironing?  This  is  to  be  another  case  of 
crowding  out.  The  more  important  will  crowd 
out  the  less  important.  It  will  be  a  matter  of 
choosing,  of  balancing.  Our  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  will 
ask,  *  Which  is  the  best  thing  for  my  children ;  that 
I  prepare  this  mince,  get  up  these  fancy  dishes,  or 
save  the  time  for  books  ?  that  I  iron  these  sheets 
and  towels  and  underclothes  "all  over  just  as 
smooth  as  glass,"  or  save  the  time  for  walks  and 


WAai  Sfiall  We  do   With  Our  Time?     221 

talks  with  the  cliildren  ?  that  I  tuck  and  ruffle  this 
skirt,  or  save  the  time  for  the  Woman's  Meetings? ' 
Just  as  soon  as  she  feels  strongly — strongly,  mind 
— the  value  of  the  best  things  she  will  be  constantly 
saving  time  for  them  from  things  which  are  not  the 
best." 

"I  know  a  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "who 
not  only  did  this  kind  of  choosing  herself  but  got 
her  child  to  do  it.  Sometimes  her  little  girl  would 
come  home  from  school  and  say,  '  Mother,  I  wish 
you  would  put  some  ruffles  on  my  dresses ;  the 
other  little  girls  have  ruffles.'  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  would 
answer :  '  Amy,  I  will  spend  this  afternoon  just  as 
you  say ;  I  will  put  some  ruffles  on  your  dress,  or 
I  will  take  jon  to  Central  Park  —  the  wild  part ! ' 
this  *  wild  part '  being  Amy's  especial  delight.  It 
was  not  always  ruffles  that  was  set  off  against  the 
Park ;  it  was  any  form  of  unnecessary  work.  And 
the  Park  was  not  the  only  substitute  offered, 
though  the  substitutes  were  always  worthy  ones, 
and  Amy  invariably  chose  them.  Her  mother 
knew  how  to  make  them  attractive.  Besides  inter- 
esting her  in  what  we  call  natural  objects,  as  has 
been  suggested,  she  interested  her  in  human  objects ; 
as  newsboys,  beggar  children,  the  very  destitute 
classes,  the  very  ignorant  classes,  and  explained 


222      W/tai  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time? 

their  needs  and  made  the  child  see  that  there  was 
work  to  do  in  the  world  and  long  to  help  to  do  it. 
Thus,  in  various  ways,  things  of  high  degree  were 
brought  forward  and  established  in  her  mind  before 
things  of  low  degree  had  a  chance  to  occupy  the 
ground." 

"  Your  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  was  a  wise  woman,"  said 
Eunice,  "  but  I  think  she  might  have  been  wise  in 
another  direction  as  well.  We  have  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  of  individuality  as  a  remedy  for  this 
everlasting  and  sheep-like  following.  If  we  want 
more  of  it  we  must  begin  with  the  children,  and 
train  them  up  to  it.  Your  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.,  besides 
doing  what  she  did,  besides  teaching  the  difference 
between  essentials  and  non-essentials,  should  have 
taught  her  little  girl  not  to  expect  to  have  what 
other  little  girls  have,  or  to  always  follow  their 
lead." 

"  My  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.  being  a  wise  woman  and  a 
thoughtful,"  said  Mary  Ann,  "  probably  did  teach 
that  sensible  doctrine." 

Here  one  of  the  girls  brought  up  one  of  our  old 
questions.  *'  Speaking  of  essentials,"  said  she, 
"  don't  you  reckon  beauty  and  good  taste  among 
them?" 

"  O,  yes  I "  said  Eunice ;  "  but  you  know  these  are 


What  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Timet     223 

not  dependent  upon  elaborate  trimming.  To  my 
eye  a  plain  wliite  dress  tied  around  with  a  sash  — 
and  perhaps  finished  off  with  just  a  bit  of  a  ruffle, 
or  other  simple  finishing  —  is  prettier  for  a  child 
than  that  same  white  dress  tucked  or  flounced  or 
braided  to  the  waist.  It  is  in  better  taste,  more  in 
keeping  with  childliness.  f^et  us  by  all  means  have 
beauty  and  good  taste.  The  elaboration,  the  time 
spent  for  not  the  best  things  is  what  I  object  to  in 
dress  and  in  cooking." 

"  And  in  ironing ! "  cried  MLss  'Cindy ;  "  don't 
leave  that  out." 

"  And  all  that  has  been  said  of  time,"  remarked 
Allen  Hartman,  "  I  should  think  would  apply 
equally  well  to  money,  and  to  strength." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mary  Ann;  "Mrs.  X.  Y.  Z.'s 
time  and  money  and  strength  must  be  used  for  the 
best  things.  And  this  is  not  a  matter  of  woman's 
rights,  or  woman's  grievances.  It  is  a  matter 
which  affects  the  interests  of  the  whole  household, 
and  therefore  the  whole  household  are  bound  to 
give  it  serious  attention." 

Just  at  this  point  there  came  a  startling  question 
from  Miss  'Cindy:  "What  about  Mr.  X.  Y.  Z.?" 
she  cried ;  "there  is  a  great  deal  said  about  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  mothers.     I  should  like  to  know  if 


224      i'f^/^al  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time  ? 

fathers  have  no  such  responsibilities?  Mr.  X.  Y.  Z. 
has  spare  time  —  men  generally  do  have ;  can  lie  not 
use  some  of  it  to  do  best  things  for  his  cliildren  ? 
Is  it  not  his  duty  to  read  and  talk  and  sometimes 
walk  with  them?  Shall  he  not  store  his  mind  with 
knowledge  in  order  to  serve  it  out  to  them,  and  in 
order  to  get  wisdom  for  their  proper  training? 
Shall  not  fathers  hold  counsel  together  in  regard 
to  the  education  and  management  of  their  children? 
Why  should  they  stand  aloof?  Mr.  X.  Y.  Z.  prob- 
ably has  his  evenings.  He  spends  them,  often,  at 
the  grocery  store,  if  in  the  country ;  if  in  the  city, 
he  may  drop  in  at  some  place  of  entertainment,  or 
at  his  Club.  And  by  the  way,  men's  clubs  are  not, 
as  a  general  thing,  established  for  family  purposes, 
or  in  family  interests.  Why  should  he  not  stay  at 
home  and  gather  his  children  about  him  and  in- 
struct and  entertain  them  in  the  ways  we  have 
been  speaking  of?  There  are  the  same  reasons 
why  the  father  should  do  this  as  why  the  mother 
should  do  it.  She  has  been  with  the  cliildren  more 
or  less  through  the  day  —  usually  more ;  cared  for 
their  numerous  needs,  answered  their  questions, 
settled  their  disputes,  listened  to  their  complaints, 
witlistood — or  given  way  to — their  teasings,  borne 
with   their  racket,  soothed   their  sorrows,  wi|jed 


What  Shall  We  do   With  Our  Time?     225 

away  their  tears.  Her  basket  is  filled  with  their 
mending  or  making,  which,  tired  as  she  is,  must  be 
carried  on  through  the  evening.  He  is  tired,  too, 
it  may  be ;  but  liis  work  is  done.  He  has  seen 
little  of  his  childi-en  during  the  day;  now  is  the 
time  for  him  to  make  their  acquaintance.  Now  is 
the  time  for  him  to  read  with  them  some  entei'tain- 
ing  and  instructive  book  ;  to  set  them  thinking ;  to 
set  them  talking ;  to  show  them  how  much  there  is 
for  them  to  learn  and  to  do  in  the  world.  Or  he 
may  share  their  amusements,  join  in  their  games. 
If  it  is  well  for  the  mother  and  children  to  be 
united  by  common  interests,  how  much  better  that 
the  father  should  join  the  union." 

"  Better  in  every  way,"  said  Eunice ;  "  better  for 
the  mothers,  for  the  fathers,  and  for  the  children." 

"  Boys  and  girls  brought  up  in  a  union  of  tliis 
kind,"  said  Allen,  "would  be  more  likely  than 
others  to  answer  our  Time  question  in  a  satisfac- 
tory way.  They  would  be  more  likely  to  perceive 
what  are  the  best  things,  and  to  choose  them." 

"  And  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that 
there  is  scarcely  a  question  to  be  asked  and  an- 
swered, whether  by  mothers,  fathers,  or  by  young 
people  just  starting  in  life,  than  —  What  are  the 
best  tilings  to  do  with  our  time  ?  " 


XXVII. 

t 

THE    ROOT    OF    THE    »LA.TTER. 

"  We  have  had  a  great  deal  of  talk,  and  good 
talk,  about  woman's  slavery  to  work,"  said  Mrs. 
Eunice  Hartman,  "  but  it  strikes  me  that  we  have 
not  yet  gone  deep  enough.  Simplifying  the  work, 
reducing  it,  bringing  the  whole  forces  of  the  family 
to  bear  upon  it,  and  various  other  suggestions, 
though  all  excellent  as  palliatives,  do  not  reach  the 
cause  of  the  evil.  There  is  an  important  first  step 
to  be  taken,  a  grand  foundation  sermon  to  be 
preached  and  practised.  The  step  is  to  place 
woman  on  a  level  with  man.  The  text  for  the 
sermon  is  equality  —  equality,  I  mean,  of  man  and 
woman." 

"  Such  equality  is  out  of  the  question,"  said  Mr. 
Johnson,  "  men  and  women  are  different ;  are  bom 
difierent.  There's  the  matter  of  strength,  to  begin 
with ;  men  are  stronger  than  women." 

"Yes,"  said  Eunice,  "but  we  find  an  equality 
226 


The  Root  of  the  Matter.  227 

among  men  which  is  not  affected  by  differences  in 
strength.  Take  occupation,  for  instance.  As  a 
rule,  every  man  is  put  in  some  way  of  earning  his 
own  living.  Suppose  that  in  a  family  are  two  chil- 
dren, a  ^on  and  a  daughter,  the  former  with  a 
delicate  constitution  and  ordinary  powers  of  intel- 
lect, the  latter  robust,  vigorous,  and  in  mental 
powers  above  the  average.  The  feeble  son  chooses 
an  occupation  suited  to  his  capacities,  and  is  fitted 
therefor.  The  strong  daughter  settles  down  to 
be  supported.  Here  is  an  inequality,  but  it  is  not 
based  upon  strength." 

"  Women  ought  not  to  complain  of  an  inequality 
which  favors  their  side,"  said  Mr.  Johnson. 

"  But  does  it  favor  their  side  ?  "  asked  Eunice. 
"  How  many  young  men  are  there,  who,  when 
schooldays  are  over,  would  be  content  with  simply 
being  supported  ?  " 

"  Not  many,"  said  Miss  'Cindy ;  "  a  young  man 
usually  desires  to  do  something  himself,  to  be  in- 
dependent. Besides,  he  knows  that  a  continuance 
of  the  support  is  uncertain.  When  the  head  of 
the  family  dies  his  wealth  must  often  be  divided 
among  several,  or  it  may  at  any  time  take  to  itself 
wings  and  fly  away.  I  think  most  young  men 
would  consider  it  a  wrong,  rather  than  a  favor,  if 


228  The  Root  of  the  Matter. 

they  had  been  put  in  no  way  of  earning  a  liveli- 
hood." 

"  And  daughters  are  no  surer  of  a  lasting  support 
than  sons,"  said  Eunice,  "  even  supposing  that  a 
wealthy  father  meets  with  no  business  losses,  and 
that  he  dies  leaving  to  each  daughter  an  independ- 
ent fortune.  How  is  it  invested  ?  In  savings 
banks,  in  railway,  insurance,  manufactures  or 
bank  stock,  in  trust  with  firms,  with  individuals, 
in  the  management  of  agents  ?  By  some  great  fire, 
or  panic,  or  fraud,  this  independent  fortune  may 
suddenly  vanish.  Where  then  does  our  supported 
daughter  find  herself  ?  Is  it  a  favor,  or  a  wrong, 
that  she  is  thoroughly  skilled  in  no  occupation  ?  " 

"  But  women  usually  marry,  and  continue  to  be 
supported,"  said  Mr.  Johnson. 

"  No  doubt  you  would  admit,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"  that  if  we  could  know  just  which  ones  would  not 
marry,  they  ought  to  have  some  preparation  for 
supporting  themselves  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Johnson, 
laugliing  ;  "  and  it  would  not  harm  any  woman." 

"  Now  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Allen  Hartman,  "  that 
those  who  marry  need  such  preparations  all  the 
more,  for  they  are  liable  to  be  left  with  children  to 
provide  for." 


The  Root  of  the  Matter.  229 

"  And  even  if  they  are  not  thus  left,"  said  Miss 
Hunt,  "  a  knowledge  of  some  money-winning  em- 
ployment would  possibly  be  of  use  to  them.  A 
husband  may  lose  his  health,  or  be  unfortunate  in 
buisness,  or  be  incompetent  to  support  a  family. 
The  wife  dismisses  her  help  and  spends  her  energies 
upon  pots,  pans,  mops  and  brooms,  whereas  by  the 
knowledge  just  mentioned  she  might  employ  her 
time  in  a  more  pleasing  occupation,  earn  money 
enough  to  pay  the  '  help,'  and  have  something  left 
over  for  the  family." 

"  But  perhaps  this  occupation  would  take  her 
from  her  children,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson ;  "  don't  you 
think  a  mother's  first  duty  is  to  her  children  ?  " 

'*  Certainly  I  do,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  but  cases  are 
possible  in  which  mothers  would  do  even  better  for 
their  children  by  leaving  them  a  certain  number  of 
hours  a  day,  than  by  remaining  constantly  with 
them.  Anyway,  it  can  do  no  harm,  as  Mr.  John- 
son admits,  for  every  woman  to  get  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  some  special  trade,  profession,  or 
business." 

"It  might  sometimes  prevent  them  from  doing 
that  degrading  and  unholy  thing,  marrying  for  a 
support,"  said  Eunice  ;  "  and  it  is  needed  for  an- 
other reason.     If  all  husbands  were  temperate  and 


230  The  Root  of  the  Matter. 

faithful  this  reason  would  not  hold  good  ;  but  as 
all  are  not,  it  does.  The  wife  of  a  drunken  and 
brutal  husband  often  feels  compelled  to  live  with 
him,  from  the  fact  tliat  she  has  no  way  of  maintain- 
ing herself  and  children.  The  same  reason  applies 
in  cases  where  the  husband  is  unfaithful.  I  read 
recently  of  a  family  in  straightened  circumstances, 
the  husband  pleading  poverty,  the  wife  working, 
saving,  denying  herself  almost  the  comforts  of  life. 
She  at  last  learned  that  he  had  been  keeping  up 
another  establishment,  where  he  suppoi-ted  a  mis- 
tress. He  did  not  deny  having  done  this.  In  this 
case  the  wife  would  not  have  remained  with  the 
husband  only  for  her  incapacity  to  do  any  sort  of 
thing  by  which  she  and  her  children  might  be 
clothed  and  fed.  Having  been  reared  as  a  vine  she 
could  not  at  once  become  an  oak." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  fair  to  rear  women  as  vines," 
said  Miss  'Cindy,  "unless  they  can  be  insured 
something  or  other  to  cling  to  always  and  forever. 
Because,  you  see,  when  the  oak,  or  the  stake,  or 
the  trellis,  is  taken  from  under,  down  goes  the 
vine." 

"  Therefore,"  said  Eunice, "  let  there  be  equality ; 
"  not  alikeness,  but  equality.  And  as  one  step  to- 
wards this,  train  up  the  daughters,  as  well  as  the 


The  Root  of  the  Matter.  231 

sons,  to  be  self-supporting ;  not  necessarily  by 
men's  employments,  but  by  any  employments 
suited  to  their  tastes  or  capacities." 

"  There  is  still  another  way  in  which  this  kind 
of  inequality  we  have  been  speaking  of  deals  un- 
fairly with  the  daughters,"  said  Allen.  "  Usually, 
a  young  man's  chosen  occupation  does  something 
more  than  support  him.  It  is  an  education.  It 
draws  him  out,  stimulates  him,  develops  him.  He 
is  not  content  with  mediocrity ;  he  wishes  to  do 
good  work  —  to  be  first-rate  of  liis  kind.  Think 
of  what  tliis  requires  in  the  way  of  general  culture 
as  well  as  special !  Even  the  persistent  effort  to 
attain  such  excellence  enlarges  and  strengthens  the 
faculties.  Now,  the  daughters,  in  being  brought 
up  to  no  special  vocation,  lose  these  developing  and 
educating  influences,  which  I  say  is  not  a  fair 
thing  1  " 

"And  speaking  generally,"  said  Miss  Hunt, 
"  when  they  do  '  take  up,'  as  it  is  called,  music,  or 
drawing,  or  carving,  or  modeling,  or  some  particular 
branch  of  study,  it  is  only  a  taking  up.  Seldom 
does  a  young  girl  get  a  thorough  and  practical 
knowledge  of  any  one  of  these  things  —  a  teachable 
knowledge." 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  slavery  of 


232  The  Root  of  the  Matter. 

women  to   housework  and  sewing-work  ? "  iisked 
Mrs.  Johnson. 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  Eunice,  "  if  a  few  therefores 
will  not  enable  us  to  make  the  connection.  Men 
have  special  occupations  ;  women  liave  not.  The 
time  of  a  person  engaged  in  a  special  occupation  is 
very  much  more  valuable  than  the  time  of  a  per- 
son engaged  in  no  such  occupation,  therefore 
woman's  time  has  come  to  be  considered  very  much 
less  valuable  than  man's  time  ;  and  therefore  it  is 
of  comparatively  little  importance  how  she  employs 
her  time,  and  therefore  it  may  be  employed  in  un- 
necessary cooking,  unnecessary  sewing,  and  other 
unprofitable  ways.  Industry,  for  a  man,  means 
either  doing  something  by  which  he  may  earn 
money,  or  something  which  may  be  the  means  of 
refinement  and  advancement  and  development  to 
others,  and  the  very  doing  of  which  is  a  refinement 
and  advancement  and  development  of  himself. 
Industry  for  a  woman  means  doing  any  sort  of 
thing  in-doors.  So  long  as  her  feet  or  fingers  are 
in  motion  there,  no  questions  are  asked  as  to  the 
value  of  what  is  done.  She  buys,  for  instance,  a 
piece  of  canvas  with  a  flower  in  the  middle,  and 
devotes  days  and  weeks  to  covering  the  uncovered 
threads  of  her  canvas  with  worsted.     Now,  if  she 


The  Root  of  the  Matter.  233 

would  spend  that  amount  of  time  in  designing 
patterns,  combining  and  harmonizing  their  colors, 
thus  calling  into  exercise  faculties  of  a  high  order, 
why,  then  she  would  have  been  doing  a  kind  of 
work  valuable  for  its  own  sake  ;  there  would  have 
been  some  effort  required,  some  reaching  forward, 
something  in  the  Excelsior  line.  As  it  is,  a  certain 
mechanical  skill  having  been  acquired,  what  comes 
after  is  only  tame  repetition.  But  a  woman's  time 
is  of  no  account ;  and  because  it  is  of  no  account 
she  flutes  and  flounces  and  braids  the  clothes  of 
herself  and  her  girls  ;  because  it  is  of  no  account, 
she  sets  forth  her  table  with  endless  variety  and 
profusion ;  because  it  is  of  no  account  her  fam- 
ily, old  as  well  as  young,  clamor  for  labor-compel- 
ling pastries,  and  '  don't  think  cake  is  worth  eating 
unless  it  is  frosted,'  as  a  hard-cooking  woman  re- 
marked, speaking  of  her  own  adult  household.  So 
we  see  how  it  is  that  woman  has  become  a  slave  to 
unessential  sewing-work,  and  unessential  house- 
work ;  that  is,  we  partly  see.  The  difference  in 
the  valuation  of  man's  time  and  woman's,  is  only 
a  part  of  the  inequality  mentioned  at  the  beginning. 
There  are  yet  other  differences  which  our  grand 
foundation  sermon  will  have  to  expound." 

"  Before  we  go  farther,"  said  Mary  Ann, "  I  have 


234  The  Root  of  the  Matter. 

a  point  or  two  to  raise  on  what  has  already  been 
said,  and  particularly  on  Mr.  Johnson's  remark, 
that  women  after  maniage  'continue  to  be  sup- 
ported.'" 

*  "  And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson,  "  have  a  few  words 
to  offer  in  favor  of  worsted  work,  and  other  sewing- 
work." 

"  And  I,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  have  something  to 
say  in  regard  to  the  difference  in  the  money  value 
of  woman's  time  and  of  man's  time." 


XXVIII. 


FAIR    PLAY. 


"As  Miss  Hunt,  Mrs.  Johnson,  and  my  sister 
Mary  Ann  say  they  have  each  a  word  to  offer,"  said 
Miss  'Cindy,  "  suppose  they  offer  their  words  now. 
Miss  Hunt  being  the  schoolma'am,  and  a  stranger 
in  the  place,  shall  be  allowed  the  first  chance." 

"  My  word  is  not  a  new  word,"  said  Miss  Hunt, 
"  it  concerns  money  —  the  money  value  of  woman's 
time  as  compared  with  man's  time.  You  all  know 
there  is  a  difference  between  these  two.  You  all 
know  that  for  equal  work  equally  well  done,  a  man 
and  a  woman  get  different  prices,  and  that  the 
man's  is  much  the  higheif.  I  have  in  mind  at  this 
moment,  a  boy's  public  school,  which  the  master 
could  not  control.  His  place  was  taken  by  a 
woman,  who  brought  order  out  of  disorder,  gov- 
erned the  school,  and  gave  satisfaction  as  a  teacher. 
I  need  not.  add  that  the  salary  of  the  efficient 
woman  was  much  less  than  that  of  the  inefficient 
23s 


236  Fair  Play. 

man.  Here  is  another  instance  that  came  within 
my  knowledge :  A  woman  sent  articles  to  an  editor 
under  a  signature  which  gave  no  clue  to  her  sex. 
He  supposed  them  written  by  a  man,  and  paid  a 
high  price  —  until  he  discovered  his  mistake ;  then 
the  price  was  considerably  lessened." 

"It  costs  a  man  more  to  live  than  it  does  a 
woman.  He  has  to  pay  higher  board  than  she  does," 
remarked  Mr.  Chandler. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that  in  some 
kinds  of  boarding-houses  a  woman  gets  her  meals 
for  perhaps  a  dollar  a  week  less  than  a  man ;  but 
to  have  fair  play,  this  reduction  ought  to  run  all 
the  way  through.  If  the  rule,  less  pay  to  women, 
is  a  general  one,  then  the  rule,  less  pay  from  wo- 
men should  be  as  general.  They  should  get  their 
railway  and  horse-car  tickets  for  less,  their  news- 
papers and  magazines  for  less,  their  pew-rents  for 
less,  their  room  and  house-rents  for  less,  their  seats 
at  concerts,  lectures  and  theatres  for  less.  It  is  a 
poor  rule  that  won't  work  both  ways,  therefore  this 
rule  is  a  poor  one.  For  women,  while  not  getting 
full  price  —  that  is,  man's  price  —  for  their  work, 
pay  full  price  for  travelling,  for  entertainments, 
for  religion,  for  reading-matter,  full  rent,  and  full 
taxes  upon  property." 


Fair  Play.  237 

"  When  the  rule  is  equal  pay  for  equal  work,'* 
said  Eunice,  "  what  Mr.  Johnson  would  call  marry- 
ing for  a  support  will  be  much  less  common.  Wo- 
men will  be  more  independent.  At  present  a  large 
majority  of  women  who  work  for  hire  get  compara- 
tively small  pay,  and  therefore  must  live  scrimp- 
ingly,  pinchingly,  denying  themselves  pleasures 
and  advantages,  not  to  say  necessities.  The  one 
escape  from  such  a  life  is  by  marriage.  A  husband 
may  give  them  the  comforts  and  luxuries  for  which 
they  sigh,  and  with  this  hope  in  view  they  are 
likely  to  accept  any  man  who  offers.  As  a  re- 
sult we  have  untrue  and  unhappy  marriages 
with  their  endless  train  of  evils  — ■  evils  which 
teU  strongly  upon  the  characters  of  the  children, 
and  from  which,  therefore,  the  whole  community 
must  suffer." 

"  It  will  be  a  gain  to  the  men  themselves,"  said 
Allen,  "when  women  shall  be  more  independent 
of  marriage.  A  gain  in  this  way :  Our  more  inde- 
pendent young  woman  will  be  likely  to  inquire 
more  closely  into  the  character  and  capacities  of  a 
young  man  before  accepting  him.  She  will  make 
higher  demands,  and  he  will  have  to  fit  himself  to 
meet  them.  So  you  see  this  equality  of  wages  is 
going  to  be  a  good  thing  all  round." 


238  Fair  Play, 

*  But  if  young  women  get  too  particular,"  said 
Mr.  Jolinson,  "marriages  will  become  scarce,  and 
the  race  will  die  out." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  let  us  hope,"  said 
Eunice ;  "  I  think  too  well  of  young  men  to  sup- 
pose there  are  not  plenty  among  them  good  enough 
for  the  very  best  of  young  women.  And  as  to 
marriages  becoming  scarcer,  that  may  not  be  wholly 
an  evil.  Better  that  they  should  be  few  and  true 
than  many  and  false.  Better  for  the  world  that 
ten  children  should  be  born  under  right  conditions 
than  fifty  under  wrong  conditions." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "here  is  another 
stumbling-block.  I  don't  bring  it  forward  as  an  ar- 
gument, exactly,  but  as  a  fact.  There  are  already 
more  than  enough  workers  for  the  work,  and  when 
all  the  women  come  pressing  into  the  ranks  the 
gtate  of  things  will  be  worse  than  ever." 

"  Or  in  other  words,"  said  Eunice,  "  women  must 
refrain  from  work  because  there  are  too  many 
workers.  On  the  same  grounds  we  might  ask  a 
certain  number  of  men  to  remain  idle.  We  might 
say  to  them,  '  Don't  you  know  there  are  enough 
already?  What  are  you  pressing  into  the  ranks 
for  ? '  I  don't  see  how  we  can  lay  down  the  prin- 
ciple that  the  number  of  workers  shall  be  made  to 


Fair  Play.  239 

correspond  to  the  amount  of  work.  As  a  practical 
measure  it  would  be  hard  to  carry  out." 

"  I  think,"  said  Allen,  "  that  this  matter  should 
be  regulated  not  by  sex,  but  by  ability.  Let  the 
best  workers  have  the  woik  and  get  the  best  pay. 
The  community  can't  afford  to  employ  inferior 
ability  when  it  can  be  served  by  superior  ability. 
Neither  can  individuals  afford  to.  You  would  not 
do  it  yourself,  Mr.  Johnson.  If  you  wanted  a  pict- 
ure painted,  or  your  walls  newly  papered,  or  your 
strawberries  gathered,  or  your  apples  sorted,  or 
plans  drawn  for  a  house,  you  would  employ,  other 
things  being  equal,  the  persons  who  would  do  your 
work  best,  whether  men  or  women.  Of  two  teach- 
ers, a  man  and  a  woman,  you  would  choose  the  one 
who  would  do  the  best  for  your  children.  In  case 
of  sickness  in  your  family,  you  would  not  hesitate 
to  send  for  a  woman  doctor  known  to  possess  great 
skill,  even  if  a  man  doctor  known  to  possess  little 
skill  were  obliged  to  lose  his  fee  in  consequence." 

"  I  don't  exactly  see,  myself,"  said  Mary  Ann, 
"  what  we  shall  come  to  with  so  many  workers." 

"  Nor  I,  exactly,"  said  Eunice,  "  but  these  things 
must  find  their  level  somehow,  and  they  will, 
though  not  by  repressing  here,  and  restraining 
there.     Full  and  free  activity  for  every  faculty  and 


240  Fair  Play. 

for  everybody's  faculties  is  the  only  fair  ground. 
Let  us  think  it  over,  logically,  as  it  were,  like  this. 
More  workers  in  the  field  will  increase  competition. 
Competition  will  insure  better  work.  Better  woik 
will  require  more  time  spent  upon  it,  and,  there- 
fore, more  workers.  Why,  this  takes  us  round  a 
circle,  and  leaves  us  wanting  more  workers  !  " 

"  Just  the  situation  we  desire,"  said  Miss  Hunt. 

"  But  if  ever  we  do  have  a  great  many  too  many- 
workers  for  the  world's  work,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"  why,  then  the  world's  work  can  be  done  in  fewer 
hoiu-s  to  the  day  than  at  present,  and,  glory,*  halle- 
lujah !  the  world  will  have  leisure !  Leisure  that 
everybody  is  sighing  and  dying  for !  This  may 
not  be  logical,  but  it  is  alluring." 

"  Then  there  is  colonization,"  said  Allen ;  "  the 
overplus  of  workers  can  leave  and  go  where  there 
are  fewer.     That  is  logical." 

"  And  see  if  this  is  not  logical,"  said  Miss  Hunt ; 
"  it  may  be  better,  even  for  the  men,  that  women 
have  equal  wages  with  them,  for  then  employers 
will  not  employ  women  in  order  to  save  money. 
They  will  employ  the  best  workers  of  both  sexes. 
This  will  be  bad  for  inferior  workers  among  wo- 
men, but  we  can't  help  that.     Fair  play  is  fair." 

"The    upshot   would    be,"    said    Miss   'Cindy, 


Fair  Play.  241 

"  more  competition,  more  trying  to  do  good  work, 
and  a  struggle  for  perfection.  The  very  best  work- 
ers would  go  to  the  top,  and  you  know  Daniel 
Webster  said,  '  There  is  always  room  at  the  top.' 
And  if  it  should  ever  come  about  that  there  is  no 
room  anywhere  but  at  the  top,  why,  glory,  halle- 
lujah !  again ;  everytliing  will  be  done  well !  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  "  that  in  this 
matter,  as  in  so  many  others,  we  shall  have  to  come 
•down  to  our  old  ground  of  individuality.  Let 
every  individual  do  what  is  best  suited  to  his  or 
her  capacities,  providing,  of  course,  that  circum- 
stances make  this  a  duty.  If  a  woman  inclines 
strongly  to  the  medical  profession,  has  a  real  genius 
for  it,  and  the  necessary  fortitude  and  persistency 
and  tenderness,  and  sense,  and  insight,  and  is  in 
every  way  strong,  let  her  be  a  physician.  The 
sick  need  her.  But  if  she  thinks  of  becoming 
a  physician  merely  because  she  has  a  right  to  be 
one,  or  merely  to  earn  money,  then  let  her  forbear 
(the  same  of  men).  So  of  public  speaking.  If  a 
woman  is  all  alive  with  a  noble  purpose,  if  her 
mind  is  brimful  of  ideas  —  important  ones  ;  if  she 
is  keen  to  discern  a  truth,  and  eloquent  to  ex- 
pound it,  then  let  her  speak  out.  The  public  need 
her.     *  Quench  not  the  spirit.'     But  if  she  cannot 


242  Fair  Play. 

speak  to  edification,  and  her  only  aim  is  notoriety, 
then  let  her  forbear  (the  same  of  men)." 

"  In  regard  to  women  speaking  in  public,"  said 
Allen,  "  I  never  could  quite  understand  the  out- 
cry that  has  been  made  against  this.  If  the  same 
outcry  were  made  against  her  singing  in  public, 
or  acting  or  reciting  in  public,  then  I  might  under- 
stand it.  But  if  one  woman  may  stand  up  in 
church  and  sing,  or  before  a  crowd  and  declaim,  or 
recite,  why  may  not  another  woman  stand  up  and 
speak — always  supposing  she  has  something  im- 
portant to  say  and  knows  how  to  say  it?  Why  is 
it  any  worse  to  say  a  tiling  than  to  sing  it,  and 
why  is  it  any  worse  for  her  to  speak  her  own 
thoughts  than  other  people's  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  think,"  said  Miss  'Cindy,  "  that  wo- 
men who  spoke  in  public  would  be  made  coarse 
and  brazen  and  unwomanly  by  doing  so.  I  have 
learned  better.  I  have  been  in  their  homes,  and 
have  seen  that  they  are  gentle  and  tender  and 
womanly.  But  we  are  wandering  from  our  sub- 
ject. Mrs.  Johnson,  shall  we  have  your  word 
now  ?    I  think  it  was  a  word  for  sewing-work." 


XXIX. 

SEWING-WORK  AND  OTHER  WORK. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Chandler,  "  I  don't 
like  to  hear  sewing-work  and  housework  cried 
down.  By  and  by  women  will  be  educated  into 
thinking  themselves  too  good  for  anything  but 
just  books  and  genteel  doings." 

"  If  they  are  well  educated,"  said  Miss  Hunt, 
"  that  is,  truly  educated,  heart  and  soul,  they  will 
know  too  much  to  think  themselves  above  any  kind 
of  honest  labor.  This  is  a  matter  which  depends 
upon  circumstances.  Circumstances  must  and  will 
alter  cases,  and  you  can't  hinder  them.  A  woman 
may  be  wisely  and  nobly  emploj^ed  in  doing  house- 
work; for  housework  means  work  by  which  the 
needs  of  the  family  are  supplied  and  the  home 
made  attractive.  But  mider  some  circumstances 
it  would  be  equally  wise  and  noble  for  the  wife 
and  daughters  to  keep  a  hired  girl  while  they  them- 
selves pursue  some  employment  which  brings  in 

243 


244  Sewing -Work  and  Other  Work. 

money  and  is  at  the  same  time  more  agreeable 
and  elevating  than  housework.  The  point  first 
to  be  settled  is,  Can  help  be  afforded?  Tliis 
depends  upon  the  income  of  the  parties  and  the 
uses  made  of  it.  If  it  is  barely  enough  for  the 
absolutely  necessary  expenses,  the  path  of  duty  for 
the  woman  is  plain,  and  leads  straight  forward  to 
and  through  the  housework ;  but  if  the  income 
be  sufficient  to  afford  luxuries  —  in  other  words, 
goodies  —  for  the  table,  and  tobacco  and  cigars  for 
the  husband,  then  this  path  of  duty  is  not  so  plain : 
it  is  obscured  by  the  question,  Would  not  the 
money  spent  for  these  be  better  spent  in  relieving 
the  wife  of  at  least  the  heaviest  parts  of  in-doors 
work?" 

"  Speaking  in  a  general  way,"  said  Mr.  Johnson, 
"  I  think  that  this  matter  of  saving  women  from 
housework  depends  a  little  upon  what  the  saved 
women  do  with  the  time  thus  gained.  They  may 
employ  it  profitably  for  all  concerned,  or  they 
may  employ  it  in  lounging  about  and  reading  silly 
novels,  or  in  nonsensical  needlework,  or  in  gadding 
here  and  there,  talking  gossip.  We  hear  now  and 
then  of  a  case  in  which  a  hard-working  man  has  to 
support  a  lazy  and  extravagant  wife." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Eunice,  "  to  make  any 


Sewing-  Work  and  Other   Work.  245 

one  statement  which  will  cover  the  whole  ground ; 
still,  I  think  we  may  lay  down  this  general  prin- 
ciple, that  it  is  never  the  duty  of  a  woman  to  go 
beyond  her  strength  in  doing  unnecessary  work, 
whether  sewing,  or  housework.  By  the  way,  Mrs. 
Johnson  had  a  word  to  say  for  sewing-work." 

"  My  word  is,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson,  "  that  sewing- 
work  must  be.  Families  must  have  clothes,  and  in 
a  very  great  many  families  the  clothes  must  be 
home-made." 

"The  use  of  machinery  is  going  to  affect  this 
matter,"  said  Miss  'Cindy  ;  "  a  moneyed  man  builds 
a  big  building,  fills  it  with  steam-running  sewing- 
macliines,  hires  girls  to  tend  them,  and  turns  off 
suits,  cloaks,  wrappers  and  underclothing,  which 
you  can  buy  for  less  than  the  materials  would  cost 
you.  Think  how  it  is  with  boys'  and  men's  cloth- 
ing. Twenty  years  ago,  if  your  husband  wanted 
a  coat  made,  the  tailoress  with  shears,  thimble, 
wax,  and  goose,  enthroned  herself  at  your  most  de- 
sirable window  and  held  the  throne  for  four  days. 
She  had  to  be  engaged  long  beforehand,  and  fed 
and  tended  during  her  stay.  In  a  family  where 
men-folks  abounded,  her  half-yearly  visitations 
were  appalling  to  contemplate.  Nowadays  men- 
folks  get  their  clothes  ready-made,  and  at  less  cost. 


246  Sewing- Work  and  Other  Work. 

When  women  know  enough  to  dress  as  healthfully 
as  men  do  their  clothing  will  not  fit  so  snug  and 
tight  as  it  does  now,  and  then  it  will  be  a  much 
easier  matter  to  buy  it  ready-made.  Industry  is  a 
virtue,  but  there  seems  no  particular  merit  in  spend- 
ing whole  days  in  sewing  when  nothing  is  gained 
by  it." 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson; 
*'  I  only  wanted  to  speak  against  the  idea  that  head 
work  is  all  in  all  and  hand  work  contemptible.  I 
read  in  a  paper  the  other  day  a  sentence  which 
seemed  so  true  that  I  learned  it  by  heart.  It  Avas 
taken  from  a  sermon : 

" '  The  woman  who  sits  sewing  all  day  long  may  have  served 
God  as  well  with  her  needle  and  ennobled  her  character  as 
much  as  though  she  had  been  doing  some  great  work.' " 

"That  is  a  true  saying,"  said  Miss  'Cindy,  "but  I 
think  there  should  be  a  strong  accent  on  the  —  let 
me  see,  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six  —  on  the 
ninth  word,  may.  The  woman  may  have ;  whether 
she  has  or  not  depends  upon  her  motives.  If  she 
was  doing  needful  sewing  which  circumstances 
made  it  necessary  for  her  to  do  herself,  or  if  she 
was  working  for  her  own  support,  or  the  support 
of  those  dependent  on  her,  or  if  she  was  helping 


Sewing-Work  and  Other  Work.  247 

her  brother  through  college,  or  if  she  was  sewing 
as  an  act  of  friendship,  or  charity,  then  it  would  be 
all  well  enough  that  she  should  sit '  sewing  all  day 
long.'" 

"  Or  if  she  were  making  anything  really  beauti- 
ful," said  Mary  Ann.  "  I  don't  refer  now  to  '  fill- 
ing in  '  dogs'  heads  and  other  such  on  canvas,  but 
embroidering  some  beautiful  pattern  on  some  beau- 
tiful material  withljeautiful  colors.  Beauty  is  one 
kind  of  necessity,  you  know." 

"  Y-e-s,"  said  Eunice,  hesitatingly,  "  but  I  have 
some  doubts  on  this  point.  Not  on  the  point  of 
beauty :  we  must  have  that ;  I  mean  the  point  of 
time.  I  don't  feel  quite  sure  that  the  best  possible 
way  of  using  our  time  —  that  is,  of  very  much 
time  —  is  to  use  it  in  covering  with  stitches  patterns 
designed  by  other  people.  The  art  once  acquired, 
what  comes  after  is  mechanical.  There  is  no  far- 
ther education  to  be  got  from  it,  no  development, 
no  progress." 

"  Still,  we  don't  want  to  develop  and  progress 
and  be  educated  every  moment  of  our  lives,"  said 
Miss  'Cindy. 

"  True  enough,"  said  Miss  Hunt;  "  and  I  hereby 
testify  that  when  the  brain  is  tired  with  reading  or 
study,  sewing-work  of  almost  any  kind  is  a  pleasant 


248  Sewing- Work  and  Other  Work. 

relief,  and  some  kinds  of  embroidery  are  a  delight, 
especially  the  nice  kinds  done  in  colors." 

"  We  will  keep  our  embroidery  for  such  times," 
said  Mary  Ann,  "  and  for  times  when  we  should 
not  be  doing  anything  else :  odd  minutes,  you 
know,  and  when  there  is  reading  aloud  or  conversa- 
tion going  on ;  but  we  won't  make  it  one  of  the 
chief  aims  of  life." 

"  Except  towards  Christmas,"  said  Miss  'Cindy. 

"  I  think  that  Mrs.  Johnson's  sentence  should  be 
well  considered  before  we  make  it  a  rule  of  action," 
said  Eunice ;  "  at  any  rate  the  emphasis  on  that 
ninth  word  may  should  be  very  strong  indeed.  Sup- 
pose a  woman  *  sits  sewing  all  day  long '  in  order 
to  make  a  grand  appearance,  or  to  keep  up  with 
the  newest  fashions,  or  to  wear  a  finer  dress  than 
her  neighbor's.  Here  we  should  have  for  motives 
pride,  vanity,  conformity  and  a  spirit  of  rivalry ; 
or  if  the  work  is  for  her  children,  the  same  motives 
would  be  instilled  into  them.  I  think  that  by 
such  '  sewing  all  day  long '  she  would  neither 
serve  God  nor  ennoble  her  character.  Also,  a 
woman  might  choose  to  '  sit  sewing  all  day  long  * 
doing  unnecessary  sewing,  when  she  was  very 
much  lacking  in  mental  culture,  or  when  her  chil- 
dren needed  her  in  various  ways,  or  when  some 


Sewing- Work  and  Other  Work.  249 

sick  or  sorrowful  person  would  be  the  better  for 
her  presence.  In  neither  of  these  cases  would  she 
be  '  serving  God  and  ennobling  her  character.'  " 

"  Speaking  of  sewing-work,"  said  Miss  Hunt, 
"  what  do  you  tliink  of  a  handkerchief  which  took 
two  years  in  the  making ;  a  handkerchief  twenty 
inches  square,  embroidered  with  hair  and  silk  in 
stitches  so  fine*that  unless  seen  through  a  powerful 
magnifying-glass  the  design  seemed  to  be  done  in 
India  ink  ?  There  were  trees  and  flowers,  and  a 
swing  and  a  child,  and  an  angel  and  an  inscrip- 
tion. The  margin  for  the  depth  of  two  and  a  half 
inches  was  done  in  lace  work  made  by  threads  of 
the  cloth  pulled  out  and  twisted  together,  requir- 
ing, the  account  said,  '  great  skill  and  patience.' 
Think  of  what  two  years'  skill  and  patience  might 
have  done  in  other  directions ;  that  is,  better  di- 
rections !  " 

"  The  handkercliief  couldn't  be  used  for  a  hand- 
kerchief," said  Miss  'Cindy ;  "  framed  and  hung  up 
for  a  picture  it  would  be  out  of  place ;  laid  away  in 
a  drawer  nobody  would  see  it.  Dear  me !  in  these 
times  when  there  is  so  much  to  learn,  and  so  much 
live  work  to  be  done,  how  can  anybody,  from 
choice,  spend  two  years  on  a  pocket  handkercliief ! " 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  meaning  to  those  two 


250  Sewing- Work  and  Other  Work. 

words  you  tlirew  in  at  the  middle  — '  from  choice,' " 
said  Eunice  ;  "  life  has  been  given  various  names, 
as  dream,  bubble,  span,  vain  show.  I  think  life  is 
a  choosing,  a  balancing.  There  are  so  many  kinds 
of  duties,  so  many  aims  worth  keeping  in  view, 
that  we  are  compelled  to  be  constantly  choosing 
between  them,  weighing  the  advantages  of  this, 
that  or  the  other ;  and  as  people  are  not  made 
alike  nor  situated  alike,  why,  each  must  choose 
and  weigh  for  himself,  or  herself." 

"  Individuality  again,"  said  Mary  Ann,  in  paren- 
thesis. 

"  Sometimes  the  choice  is  between  lazy  depend- 
ence and  industrious  independence,"  said  Allen, 
"and  gowetimes  the  former  is  preferred." 

"  Yes,  and  especially  among  women,"  said  Miss 
'Cindy;  "but  the  time  is  coming  when  young 
women,  the  same  as  young  men,  shall  be  trained  to 
self-support,  and  ^hall  think  it  an  honor  rather  than 
a  disgrace.  Then  you  will  see  labor  looking  up,  as 
it  were.  The  stigma  will  drop  off  of  it:  off  hand 
labor  as  well  as  off  other  kinds.  When  tliat  time 
comes  the  prevailing  sentiment  will  be:  Any  hon- 
est work  is  more  honorable  than  dependence  ;  em- 
phasis on  the  first  word,  any^'' 


xxx> 

WHO  SHALL   DECroE? 

Upon  hearing  it  remarked  that  there  are  other 
than  the  natural  inequalities  between  men  and 
women,  Mr.  Johnson  said  he  would  like  to  hear 
them  mentioned. 

"Yes,  ladies,"  said  Allen,  laughing,  "now  is 
your  opportunity.  Just  state  your  case,  and  we 
men  will  listen  patiently  and  decide  justly." 

"Your  very  proposition  suggests  one  of  the 
inequalities,"  said  Miss  Hunt.  "  To  say  we  will 
decide  is  as  much  as  to  say  we  have  the  right  to  de- 
cide. Equals  do  not  decide  for  equals ;  yet  many 
questions  affecting  woman's  interests  are  decided 
by  this  same  we  —  that  is  to  say,  by  men." 

"  That's  what's  the  matter  with  the  whole  mat- 
ter," said  Miss  'Cindy.  "  There's  too  much  we  for 
the  you." 

"  Let  us  suppose  a  case,"  said  Miss  Hunt.  "  Sup- 
pose two  persons,  James  and  John,  are  travelling 

251 


252  W/iO  Shall  Decide  ? 

together.  Says  James  to  John,  as  they  pursue 
their  journey :  '  That  is  not  the  path  for  you  to 
take.  That  stream  is  too  deep  for  you  to  ford. 
Those  plums  will  makte  you  sick.  It  will  be  best 
for  you  not  to  step  over  this  fence.  It  is  wrong 
for  you  to  cross  that  meadow.  You  cannot  climb 
that  hill.  I  advise  you  not  to  enter  that  building. 
You  will  be  afraid  of  the  dog ;  besides,  it  contains 
nothing  which  you  need.' 

"  Now,  the  very  fact  that  James  assumes  such 
directorship  implies  that  James  thinks  himself  a 
better  judge  than  John  of  John's  duties  and  ca- 
pacities and  needs. 

"  Should  James,  not  only  advise  and  direct,  but 
urge  his  own  preferences,  and  say :  '  I  prefer  that 
you  conduct  in  such  and  such  a  manner.  I  like  to 
see  you  in  this  place,  and  I  don't  like  to  see  you 
in  that  place.  You  will  please  me  better  by  doing 
thus  than  by  doing  so.'  This  would  imply  that 
James's  wishes  and  preferences  were  to  be  con- 
sulted, rather  than  John's.  If  James  should  go  a 
step  further,  and  use  authority,  declaring  to  John, 
'  You  shall  not  take  that  path ;  you  shall  not  ford 
that  stream ;  you  shall  not  eat  those  plums,'  and 
so  forth,  this  would  imply  on  James's  part  a  right 
of  control  over  John. 


Who  Shall  Decide  f  253 

"  James  in  this  parable  represents  the  aforesaid 
*  we,'  which  is  to  say  man ;  and  John  represents 
the  aforesaid  '  you,'  which  is  to  say  woman.  Says 
man  to  woman  :  '  I  advise  you  not  to  attempt  such 
and  such  studies.  Your  brain  is  unequal  to  this 
or  that  effort ;  besides,  the  knowledge  gained  would 
do  you  no  good.  It  is  unwomanly  and  improper 
for  you  to  speak  in  public,  and  to  speak  from  a 
pulpit  to  a  congregation  on  Sunday  is  wrong. 
Neither  is  it  well  for  you  to  enter  upon  the  study 
of  medicine.  There  are  terrible  difficulties  in  the 
way  here.  It  is  much  more  fitting  that  we  should 
be  the  physicians ;  not  only  among  our  own  sex, 
but  among  yours.  It  is  not  necessary  that  you 
should  have  any  voice  in  certain  matters  of  com- 
mon interest  to  us  both  —  as,  for  instance,  the 
management  of  the  schools  your  children  attend, 
choice  of  teachers  and  committees,  course  of  studies, 
condition  of  school-buildings  ;  or  in  the  appropria- 
tion of  the  taxes  you  pay  on  your  property ;  or  in 
making  tli^  laws  by  which  you  are  governed.  We 
can  manage  all  these  things  for  you.  Should  you 
take  interest  in  such  matters,  you  would  lose  your 
womanly  natures.  You  would  cease  to  care  for 
your  children.' 

"Now,  the  veiy  fact   that    man   assumes  such 


254  W7^  Shall  Decide  f 

directorship  implies  that  man  is  a  better  judge 
than  woman  of  woman's  needs  and  duties  and 
capacities ;  a  better  judge  than  woman  of  what 
is  womanly. 

"  In  the  parable  James  does  more  than  merely 
to  advise  and  direct ;  he  makes  known  his  pleas- 
ure. So  does  the  '  we  '  in  the  reality.  Man  says  : 
'We  don't  want  you  thus;  but  so.  We  don't 
want  to  see  you  on  the  platform,  or  in  the  pulpit, 
or  at  the  ballot-box,  or  prescribing  for  the  sick. 
We  don't  want  learned  women.  We  want  sweet, 
yielding,  clinging,  depending  women ;  women  with 
no  strong  points  of  character  to  protrude  and  irri- 
tate us.  These  are  the  kind  to  make  us  happy.' 
All  this  implies  that,  in  the  ordering  of  woman's 
life,  man's  pleasure  and  preferences  are  to  be  con- 
sulted, rather  than  her  own. 

*'  In  the  parable  James  goes  a  step  further,  and 
uses  authority.  So  does  the  *  we '  in  the  reality. 
Man  says  to  woman :  *  You  shall  not  do  thus ;  but 
so.  You  shall  not  enter  that  college ;  you  shall 
not  become  members  of  that  medical  institution ; 
you  shall  not  speak  in  that  pulpit  or  at  that  con- 
vention ;  you  shall  not  have  a  voice  in  making  the 
laws  which  govern  you,  or  in  the  appropriation  of 
your  tax-money,  or  in  choosing  your  pastor,  or  in 


IV/io  Shall  Decide  ?  255 

the  management  of  the  schools  your  children  at- 
tend, or  in  any  matters  of  common  or  public  in- 
terest.' This  exercise  of  authority  implies  on 
man's  part  a  right  of  control  over  woman." 

"But  almost  all  the  women  would  agree  with 
the  men,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson.  "  They  don't  want 
to  do  these  forbidden  things ;  they  don't  think  it 
proper  or  right  to  do  them.  They  don't  want  the 
bother  of  laws,  and  of  school-matters,  and  of  know- 
ing how  their  tax-money  is  spent.  They  like  to  be 
looked  out  for  and  taken  care  of,  and  they  feel 
willing  to  trust  men  to  manage  all  such  matters 
for  them." 

"  That  is  not  the  point  in  question,"  said  Miss 
Hunt.  "  Our  point  is  inequality.  This  point  has 
been  doubted.  But  if  one  person  assumes  the  di- 
rectorship of  another  person,  there  certainly  is  in- 
equality implied  between  the  two  and  a  superiority 
on  the  part  of  the  director." 

"  Now  I  will  speak  a  parable,"  said  Miss  'Cindy, 
"  Mrs.  Johnson,  suppose  you  should  put  on  your 
things  and  walk  out  of  your  front  door,  and  that 
Mrs.  Chandler  should  meet  you  and  say :  '  Mrs. 
Johnson,  this  is  the  road  you  ought  to  take.  It 
leads  to  Hepton  Corners.  That  road  leads  to  Over- 
ton.    You  are  not  fit  to  go  to  Overton.     You  don't 


256  Who  Shall  Decide  f 

feel  strong  enough,  your  shoes  pinch  your  feet, 
and  you  can't  see  very  well  with  one  of  your  eyes, 
and  you  have  a  buzzing  sound  in  your  eare,  and 
your  shawl  ought  to  have  more  blue  in  it.  The 
things  you  will  get  at  Overton  are  not  good  for 
you.  The  things  you  will  get  at  Hepton  Corners 
are  good  for  you.  It  is  improper  and  wrong  for 
you  to  go  to  Overton ;  j^our  duty  calls  you  to 
Hepton  Corners.  Furthermore,  I  don't  like  to 
think  of  you  at  Overton.  -  I  like  to  think  of  you 
at  Hepton  Corners.  You  will  not  make  me  nearly 
as  happy  by  going  to  Overton  as  you  will  by  going 
to  Hepton  Corners.  Furthermore,  again,  you  shall 
do  as  I  say.     You  shall  not  go  to  Overton.' 

"  Your  natural  reply  would  be  :  '  Mrs.  Chandler, 
I  must  judge  for  myself  what  is  right  and  proper 
and  where  my  duty  leads  me.  Certainly  I  know 
better  than  you  what  my  strength  will  allow,  and 
whether  or  not  my  shoes  pinch  my  feet,  or  I  can 
see  with  both  eyes,  or  have  a  buzzing  sound  in  my 
ears.  I  don't  quite  see  why  your  taste  should  de- 
cide the  color  of  my  shawl,  or  why  your  prefer- 
ences should  regulate  my  movements ;  and  as  for 
detaining  me  by  force,  the  idea  is  absurd.  In  fact, 
your  whole  talk  to  me  is  aljsurd.' 

"  You  see  here  that  the  question  what  was  your 


Who  Shall  Decide?  257 

duty,  or  what  were  your  wishes,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  point  under  consideration.  It  might  not 
have  been  your  duty  to  go  to  Overton ;  you  might 
have  had  no  desire  to  go  there.  The  point  is  that 
Mrs.  Chandler  should  assume  to  know  your  duty, 
and  needs,  and  capabilities  better  than  you  know 
them  yourself;  should  expect  you  to  yield  your 
preferences  to  hers,  and  even  to  submit  to  her 
authority.  You  two  being  on  an  equality,  her  as- 
sumptions and  expectations  would  appear  to  you 
absurd.  If  we  suppose  you  to  be  very  much 
underwitted  and  destitute  of  moral  perception, 
and  Mrs.  Chandler  to  be  very  much  overwitted 
and  unerring  in  moral  perception,  the  absurdity 
vanishes." 

"  Just  so  in  our  case,"  said  Miss  Hunt.  "  Sup- 
posing woman  to  be  equal  with  man  —  equal,  that 
is,  in  judgment,  in  intelligence,  in  moral  percep- 
tion ;  it  is  absurd  for  him  to  expect  that  her  course 
should  be  shaped  by  his  opinions,  his  preferences, 
or  his  authority,  any  more  than  that  his  course 
should  be  shaped  by  her  opinions,  preferences  and 
authority.  If  we  suppose  woman  to  be  very  much 
underwitted  and  destitute  of  moral  perception,  and 
man  to  be  very  much  overwitted  and  unerring  in 
moral  perception,  the  absurdity  vanishes.     But  are 


258  Who  Shall  Decide  f 

we  ready  to  admit  that  such  is  the  case  ?  Are  you 
willing  to,  yourself,  Mrs.  Johns^iri^' 

"  Of  course,  I  am  not ! "  said  Mrs.  Johnson. 

"Are  you  willing  to  admit  that  women,  as  a 
class,  are  natu^-ally  inferior  to  men,  as  a  class,  in 
intelligence,  judgment,  common  sense,  and  moral 
sense?" 

"No,  I  am  not." 

"  Is  it  not  likely  that  a  woman  should  know,  at 
least,  as  well  as  a  man  what  is  right,  what  is  proper, 
what  is  womanly,  what  she  needs,  and  what  she 
can  probably  accomplish  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  why  should  she  be  under  his  direction  in 
these  matters?  Remember,  again,  that  the  ques- 
tion (Is  it  right  for  women  to  do  all  these  forbid- 
den things,  as  you  call  them  ?)  is  not  our  question. 
I,  you,  all  of  us  women  may  shiink  from  doing 
them,  may  detest  it,  scorn  it.  But  our  one  sole, 
single  point  is  that  man,  not  being  woman's  supe- 
rior in  judgment,  intelligence,  and  moral  sense,  de- 
cides what  is  right  and  proper  for  her  to  do,  ex- 
pects her  to  be  guided  by  liis  preferences,  and 
compels  her  to  submit  to  his  decisions. 

"  The  true  way  is  for  man  and  woman  to  stand 
equals,  on  the   common  ground   of  humanity  — 


W/to  Shall  Decide?  259 

equally  free  to  decide  and  to  act ;  equally  free  to 
develop  his  or  her  own  faculties  ;  equally  free  from 
arbitrary  restrictions. 

"  And  by  the  way  this  simple  point  that  the 
moral  right  of  individual  expression  is  common  to 
all  settles  the  question  of  woman  suffrage.  The 
real  question  is  not  Shall  women  vote,  but  Who 
is  to  decide  whether  she  shall  or  not  ?  At  pres- 
ent man  has  the  legal  right  of  decision,  but  this 
legal  right  is  based  on  a  moral  wrong." 


XXXI. 

lucinda's  letter. 

"  We  admit,"  said  Mr.  Chandler,  "  that  man  does, 
in  many  cases,  decide  what  is  and  what  is  not 
woman's  duty,  and  does  oblige  her  to  submit  to  his 
decisions ;  but  is  there  not  a  propriety  in  his  doing 
so?  Is  this  not  authorized  by  several  texts  of 
Scripture?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Miss  Hunt,  the  school-teacher ; 
"  and  one  reason  why  I  wish  to  hear  the  whole  mat- 
ter discussed  is  that  my  attention  has  just  been 
called  to  these  texts  by  a  letter  from  a  pupil  friend 
of  mine,  lately  married  to  a  young  city  book-keeper. 
I  began  school-teaching  in  an  out-of-the-way  village 
in  New  Hampsliire,  and  among  the  scholars  attend- 
ing was  one  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  named  Lucinda; 
a  heavy,  thick-set  girl,  somewhat  clumsy  in  her 
motions,  and  often  abrupt  in  speech.  Her'face  was 
round  and  rosy,  and  it  had  honesty  written  all  over 
it.  I  was  drawn  to  her  at  first  by  this  truthful- 
a6o 


Liicindd s  Letter.  261 

ness  of  countenance ;  and  still  more  afterward  by 
her  truthfulness  of  character  and  her  affectionate 
disposition.  I  never  knew  a  person  so  utterly  con- 
scientious. In  bringing  in  her  school-reports,  she 
exacted  from  herself  the  strictest  integrity,  and  by 
no  means  allowed  herself  the  benefit  of  a  doubt. 
One  afternoon,  as  was  often  the  case  —  for  Lucinda, 
with  all  her  earnest  endeavors,  could  not  become  a 
scholar  —  she  missed  many  times  in  her  geography, 
and  I  left  her  to  study  after  school,  telling  her  that 
when  she  had  tried  as  hard  as  she  possibly  could 
she  might  go,  even  if  the  lesson  were  not  perfectly 
learned.  Just  before  dark,  finding  the  key  had  not 
been  brought,  I  went  over  to  the  schoolhouse, 
stepped  softly  to  the  door,  and  looked  in.  There 
sat  Lucinda,  her  head  bent  down  to  the  book,  one 
hand  covering  the  answers,  '  weaving '  backward 
and  forward  in  her  seat,  as  if  to  make  her  body 
help  her  mind  to  do  its  work. 

"  'O  Miss  Hunt! '  she  said  in  a  pitiful  tone,  as 
I  entered.  '  I  tried  hard ;  but  I  don't  believe  I 
tried  as  hard  as  I  could,  For  I  watched  the  fhes 
some  when  I  thought  I  was  studying ;  and  when  I 
was  telling  the  square  miles,  I  kept  thinking  about 
Ma's  getting  supper  and  the  baby  trying  to  turn 
over   flapjacks  with  a   clothes-pin,  as   he   did  one 


262  Lucindci  s  Letter. 

time,  and  — '     Here  she  burst  into  a  giggle,  wliicli 
soon  turned  into  a  cry.     And  I  kissed  her,  and 
stroked  her  hair,  and  sent  her  home." 
This  is  her  letter : 

"My  dear  Teacher: 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  about  something  that  I  can't 
make  up  my  mind  which  is  the  right  side  of  it  and 
which  is  the  wrong.  I  think  it  is  wicked  to  go  out 
walking  in  the  woods  and  fields  Sunday  afternoons. 
I  was  brought  up  so.  But  Augustus,  he  doesn't 
think  it  is  wicked.  And  he  says  he  is  shut  up  so 
much  that  he  needs  to  go,  and  that  he  can  keep  the 
day  among  God's  works  better  than  among  man's 
works ;  and  he  wants  me  to  go  with  him.  Now, 
he  couldn't  take  so  much  comfort  going  alone,  and, 
if  anybody  goes  with  him,  I'd  rather  go  with  him 
myself  than  anybody  else  should  go.  But  then  I 
do  not  think  it  is  right  to  go.  I  wasn't  brought 
up  that  way.  Last  Sunday  Augustus  asked  me  if 
I  did  not  think  it  was  right  to  follow  what  the 
Bible  laid  down.  And  I  said :  '  Why,  yes,  mdeed ; 
for  the  Bible  was  given  us  for  a  guide.'  '  Well,' 
says  he, '  the  Bible  says  that  wives  must  do  as  their 
husbands  want  them  to  ;  and  I  w^nt  you  to  go,  and 
so  it  is  right  for  you  to  go.' 


Liicindas  Letter.  263 

*'  Then  he  got  his  father's  Scott's  Bible,  because 
that  has  a  great  many  notes  of  explanation  in  it; 
and  read  to  me  first  from  I  Peter,  '  Wives,  be  in 
subjection  to  your  husbands ' ;  then  from  Ephe- 
sians,  '  Let  wives  be  subject  to  their  husbands  in 
everything';  then  from  Timothy,  'Let  the  women 
hear  in  silence,  with  all  subjection ' ;  then  from 
Corintliians, '  The  head  of  every  man  is  Christ,  and 
the  head  of  the  woman  is  the  man.'  *Now  these 
sayings  are  easy  to  understand,'  said  Augustus, 
'and  are  said  over  and  over  so  many  times  they 
must  mean  what  they  say ;  and,  don't  you  see,  the 
responsibility  is  taken  off  your  shoulders  ?  ' 

"  I  did  not  know  just  what  to  say  to  him,  because 
there  it  was  in  plain  Bible  words, '  Submit  in  every- 
thing, as  unto  the  Lord ' ;  but  I  said  it  did  not 
seem  reasonable.  He  said  that  reason  was  one 
thing  and  revelation  was  another,  and  that  we 
must  not  oppose  reason  to  revelation.  '  Mr.  Scott 
was  a  pious  man  and  a  learned  man,'  said  he,  '  and 
it  looks  likely  that  he  had  as  much  reason  as  most 
folks  ;  and  he  says,  in  a  note  here,  '  Man  is  the  im- 
mediate Head  or  Ruler  of  every/voman,  to  whose 
authority  God  .  .  .  subjected  her';  and  he 
says,  '  In  general,  it  is  beneficial  to  women  to  be 
subject  to  their  husbands.'     And  do  you  mean  to 


264  Lucindas  Letter. 

set  yourself  above  Mr.  Scott,  and  above  Paul?' 
Augustus  asked. 

"  I  told  him  I  would  think  the  matter  over  in  my 
mind.  And  it  happened  that  our  minister  called 
to  see  me  that  week,  and,  after  he  had  talked  some, 
I  asked  him  if  we  must  take  the  Bible  commands 
to  mean,  word  for  word,  just  what  they  said.  And 
he  said :  '  Certainly.'  And  then  I  told  him  what 
Augustus  wanted  me  to  do,  and  that  I  thought  it 
would  be  wicked  to  do  that  way  Sundays.  And 
he  said,  right  off :  '  My  dear,  we  have  to  use  reason 
in  regard  to  these  matters,  and  — '  I'm  afraid  I 
wasn't  very  polite;  for  I  spoke  right  out  before 
he'd  done,  and  said  I :  '  Can  we  ?  I  didn't  know 
we  could.  Can  all  of  us?  Can  women  f  'Cer- 
tainly,' said  he  again.  '  And  when  you  interrupted 
me  I  was  about  to  say  that,  whenever  a  husband's 
wishes  conflict  with  the  voice  of  conscience,  the 
voice  of  conscience  must  be  obeyed.'  '  The  voice 
q£  a  woman's  conscience  ? '  said  I.  '  Certainly,'  said 
he.  *  Woman  is  an  accountable  being.'  '  Then 
what  Paul  meant  was,'  said  I :  '  Wives,  be  subject 
unto  your  husbands  when  you  tliink  it  is  right  to 
be.'  *  Certainly,'  said  he.  '  Conscience  is  su- 
preme.' 

"But  when  I   told   Augustus  tliis,   he  said  he 


Lucindas  Letter.  265 

didn't  see  what  right  any  human  man  had  to  add 
what  Paul  did  not  say.  Said  he :  '  Paul  took  pains 
to  say  these  things  at  a  great  many  different  times 
(so  there  was  chance  enough)  ;  but  he  never  at  any 
of  the  times  brought  it  in  that  woman  must  follow 
her  conscience,  or  her  reason  either.  If  the  mini«- 
ter  thinks  women  ought  to  follow  their  reasons  and 
their  consciences,  why  didn't  he  let  that  Mrs. 
Orton,  who  is  getting  up  a  revival,  preach  in  the 
meeting-house,  when  she  said  she  felt  it  to  be  her 
duty  to  and  that  her  soul  burned  within  her  to  pro- 
claim glad  tidings  ?     But  he  said  no  ! ' 

"I  couldn't  say  this  was  not  so;  and  the  next 
time  the  minister  called,  after  we  had  talked  some 
about  the  revival  and  about  Mrs.  Orton,  I  said  that 
some  of  us  wanted  her  to  preach  in  the  meeting- 
house. '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  but  I  felt  it  my  duty  to 
withhold  my  consent.  The  Bible  is  very  clear  on 
this  point.  Paul  says :  *  Let  your  women  keep  si- 
lence in  the  church.'  I  said :  '  You  said,  the 
other  day,  that  all  of  us  —  women  and  all — 
must  follow  our  reasons  and  our  consciences. 
Augustus  says  he  doesn't  understand,  and  I  don't 
either,  why  they  must  do  so  at  some  times  and  not 
do  so  at  other  times.'  He  said :  '  My  dear,  some 
parts  of  the  Bible  are  hard  to  reconcile.     We  see 


266  Lucindci  s  Letter. 

now  as  in  a  glass  darkly.  We  must  walk  by  faith, 
and  not  by  sight.  Those  who  know  best  about 
these  matters  think  it  is  not  right  for  a  woman  to 
preacli  in  a  church ;  and  you  must  have  faith  in 
their  judgment.'  So  I  told  Augustus  that  the  min- 
ister said  that  we  must  settle  our  duty  for  our- 
selves sometimes,  and  sometimes  not.  Augustus 
says  this  seems  unlikely ;  and  I  think  myself 
that  it  does  seems  unlikely. 

"Ruthy  Taylor  —  she's  one  of  the  young  con- 
verts —  she  wants  to  follow  the  Bible  very  strictly, 
and  she  asked  me  if  I  thought  she  ought  to  wear 
her  gold  chain  and  locket  her  uncle  gave  her ;  for 
she  said  that  Paul  forbids  women  to  wear  such 
things,  and  she  wished  she  knew  what  to  do  about 
it.  She  said  that  Paul  said  that,  if  a  woman 
wanted  to  know  anytliing,  let  her  ask  her  husband 
at  home ;  but  she  hadn't  any  husband  to  ask  about 
the  chain  and  locket.  We  looked  to  see  if  Mr. 
Scott  said  anything  about  this,  and  found  that  he 
said  that  the  command  to  ask  husbands  might  take 
in  unmarried  women ;  for,  as  he  said  in  one  of  his 
notes,  they  would  have  some  man  in  the  family  of 
whom  they  might  inquire.  Ruthy  is  very  much 
puzzled  to  know  what  is  right  to  do.  She  wants 
to  do   exactly  as  the    Bible  says,  And  it  says  we 


Lucindas  Letter.  267 

must  inquire  of  the  men  when  we  don't  know. 
Now,  Ruthy's  brother  is  a  man ;  but  all  he  thinks 
of  is  going  a-gunning,  and  hardly  ever  looks  into 
any  book,  let  alone  tlie  Bible,  and  Ruthy  says  she 
knows  he  wouldn't  know  anything  about  wearing 
pearls  and  costly  array.  Mr.  Scott  said  in  a  note 
that  the  rule  against  doing  so  might  admit  of 
occasional  exceptions ;  but  Augustus  says  he  thinks 
this  is  leaving  a  very  wide  door  open,  for  a  great 
many  women  ^vill  think  they  are  occasional  excep- 
tions and  will  walk  right  through.  I  told  Ruthy 
that  the  minister  said  we  must  all  use  our  reasons 
and  consciences,  even  women ;  but  Augustus  wants 
to  know,  and  Ruthy  wants  to,  too,  if  Paul  meant 
that  women  should  do  so  sometimes,  why  didn't  he 
say  at  which  times?  He  says  that  in  the  com- 
mands there  isn't  even  one  small  crack  open  for  a 
woman's  reason  and  conscience ;  that  her  subjec- 
tion must  be  *  in  everything ' ! 

"  I  wish  you  would  write  me  a  letter,  and  tell 
me  what  you  think  about  these  texts,  and  especially 
about  the  one  which  forbids  women  to  speak  in 
churches,  and  why  this  should  be  followed  always 
and  those  others  not  always." 


XXXII. 

MISS  hunt's  letter  to  lucinda. 

My  dear  Lucinda: 

You  ask  what  I  think  about  the  texts  of  Script- 
ure which  would  place  women  under  subjection  to 
men,  "  and  especially  about  that  one  which  forbids 
women  to  speak  in  churches." 

In  such  matters  we  naturally  look  for  guidance 
to  our  religious  teachers  and  members  of  religious 
bodies.  There  is  something  curious  in  the  way 
these  seem  to  regard  the  particular  text  you  speak 
of.  The  same  Paul  who  forbids  women  to  speak 
in  the  church  said :  "  I  suffer  not  a  woman  to 
teach."  Yet  religious  people  employ  women  teach- 
ers. The  text  may  be  said  to  mean  that  women 
must  not  teach  adults,  especially  adult  men.  But, 
even  thus  explained,  it  is  set  aside  by  prominent  re- 
ligious leaders,  who,  in  conducting  evening  schools 
for  adults  of  both  sexes,  include  women  among  the 
teachers.  They  would  smile  at  the  idea  of  taking 
268 


Miss  Hwit's  Letter  to  Lticinda.  269 

the  text  literally.  Your  own  minister,  if  wishing 
information  on  some  point  in  astronomy,  would 
think  it  right  to  ask  it  of  Maria  Mitchell.  He 
would  not  ask  it  of  you ;  and,  if  his  question  re- 
lated to  zoology,  he  would  not  probably  put  it  to 
Maria  Mitchell.  The  accepted  meaning  of  this 
text  seems  to  be,  then,  that  woman  must  not  teach 
unless  she  is  better  informed  than  those  to  be 
taught. 

We  find  other  texts  of  Scripture  which  are  not 
taken  literally  by  religious  leaders.  Paul  said, 
"  Owe  no  man  anything."  Not  many,  even  of  the 
stricter  sort,  obey  this  to  the  letter  and  invariably 
pay  at  the  time  of  buying. 

Then  there  are  the  texts  :  "  The  powers  that  be 
are  ordained  of  God.  Whoever  resisteth  the  pow- 
ers shall  receive  unto  themselves  damnation." 
This  is  plain  language ;  yet  those  who  insist  most 
earnestly  on  a  literal  interpretation  of  Scripture 
would  not  think  it  right  to  sin  in  obedience  to  the 
powers  that  be.  The  accepted  meaning  of  this  text 
is :  Obey  the  powers  that  be  when  their  commands 
do  not  conflict  with  the  voice  of  conscience. 

"  Sell  all  that  ye  have  and  give  alms "  is  a  plain 
command.  For  everybody  to  follow  it  is  impossi- 
ble, since,  if  property  is  sold,  somebody  must  buy ; 


270  Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda. 

and  for  any  head  of  a  family  to  "sell  all"  for 
the  purpose  mentioned  would  be  unjust  to  that 
family. 

"  Give  to  every  one  that  asketh  "  is  another  plain 
command;  but  we  all  know  that  indiscrimuiate 
charity  injures  many  who  receive  it.  I  suppose  a 
millionaire  could  hardly  do  a  worse  thing  for  a 
place  than  to  proclaim  there  "  I  will  give  to  every 
man  that  asketh  " ;  thus  taking  away  that  necessity 
of  exertion  which  is  what  develops  the  powers  of 
a  man  and,  in  fact,  makes  a  man  of  him.  The 
conductors  of  charitable  organizations  —  most  of 
whom  are  religious  people  —  beseech  us  not  to 
"give  to  every  man  that  asketh."  They  tell  us 
that  many  of  these  askers  are  lazy,  unt^^•ifty,  im- 
provident, determined  to  live  in  idle  dependence. 
They  say  that,  so  long  as  people  do  "  give  to  every 
man  that  asketh,"  so  long  will  pauperism  increase 
and  laziness  find  support.  The  best  and  wisest  in 
the  land  practice  this  text  as  if  it  were  written : 
"  Do  not  give  to  every  man  that  asketh." 

"  Of  him  that  taketh  away  thy  goods  ask  them 
not  again."  But  religious  people  do  not  hesitate 
to  insist  upon  the  restoration  of  goods  of  wliich 
they  have  been  unjustly  deprived.  Their  usual  in- 
terpretation of  the  text  seems  to  be  :  "  If  any  man 


Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda.  271 

taketh  away  thy  goods,  compel  liim  to  restore  them 
and  punish  him  for  taking  them." 

"  Take  no  thought  for  your  life  what  ye  shall 
eat,  nor  for  your  body  what  ye  shall  put  on."  The 
much-abused  tramps  are  about  the  only  ones  among 
us  who  follow  this  command  to  the  letter.  Pious 
men,  church  members,  ministers  do  "  take  thought " 
for  these  things,  and  seek  salaries  which  will  pre- 
vent a  lack  of  them.  Some  say  the  command 
means  "  take  no  anxious  thought " ;  but  if  your 
minister  were  deprived  of  his  parish,  he  could 
hardly  help  taking  anxious  thought  for  the  feed- 
ing and  clothing  of  his  family,  and  in  these  times 
of  failures  and  shrinkages  and  embezzlements  al- 
most any  persons  having  families  depending  upon 
them  must  sometimes  take  thought  and  anxious 
thought. 

"  Let  no  man  seek  his  own,  but  every  man  an- 
other's wealth."  Do  you  know  any  religious  per- 
sons who  obey  this  rule  ?  Do  you  know  any  re- 
ligious shopkeeper  who  asks  his  customers  to  trade 
at  the  shop  over  the  way,  rather  than  at  his  own  ? 
Any  religious  shoemaker  who  entreats  people  to 
get  their  shoes  at  another's  shoe-store  ?  Any  re- 
ligious merchant  who  hastens  to  tell  his  fellow- 
merchants  the  secret  news  he  has  received  of  a  rise 


2/2  Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda. 

in  the  price  of  goods  ?  Any  religious  lawyers  and 
physicians  who,  in  obedience  to  the  command,  turn 
over  their  clients  or  their  patients  to  some  other 
practitioners  ?  Any  clergyman  who,  in  want  of  a 
parish  himself,  recommends  for  a  desirable  situa- 
tion some  other  candidate  ?  The  usual  following 
of  this  text  is : 

"  Let  no  man  seek  another's,  but  every  man  his 
own  wealth." 

We  find  no  rule  more  forcibly  enjoined  than  that 
of  the  subjection  of  wives  to  husbands.  The  com- 
mand in  regard  to  this  is  given  over  and  over  and 
over,  and  always  clearly.  "  Wives,  submit  your- 
selves unto  your  husbands  in  everything."  ''  Sub- 
mit yourselves  unto  your  husbands  as  unto  the 
Lord."  "  As  the  Church  is  subject  to  Christ,  so 
let  the  wives  be  to  their  husbands  in  everything." 
Plain,  forcible,  comprehensive ;  yet  your  minister 
told  you  that  these  commands  are  never  to  be  fol- 
lowed when  such  following  Ls  disapproved  by  your 
conscience. 

But,  although  these  and  many  other  texts  may, 
it  seems,  be  interpreted  by  the  light  of  reason  and 
conscience,  and  are  not  to  be  taken  literally,  there 
is  one  text  which  we  are  told  must  be  taken  liter- 
ally and  literally   practiced :    "  Let  your  women 


Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda.  273 

keep  silence  in  the  church,  for  it  is  not  permitted 
unto  them  to  speak." 

I  think  no  person  has  ever  told  us  why  this  text 
is  to  have  a  literal  rendering  and  those  others  not ; 
but  the  distinction  is  made.  The  same  men  who 
invite  "  a  woman  to  teach  "  in  adult  schools  of  both 
sexes ;  who  always  ask  their  wives  at  home,  before 
taking  an  imjiortant  step ;  who  would  resist  "  the 
powers  that  be,"  if  ordered  by  them  to  commit  a 
sin ;  who  seek  their  "  own  wealth,"  and  not  "  an- 
other's " ;  who  hold  fast  by  "  all  that  they  have  " 
and  try  to  get  more ;  who  sue  at  law  the  person 
who  "  taketh  away  [their]  goods,"  and  seldom  give 
to  any  "man  that  asketh";  and  take  so  much 
thought  for  their  lives  as  to  make  the  accumulation 
of  property  an  absorbing  aim  ;  who  "  owe  "  many 
men  and  pay  reluctantly ;  who  would  blame  the 
woman  who  obeyed  her  husband  to  do  wickedly  — 
these  same  men,  having  walked  straight  through, 
or  gone  around,  or  jumped  over  the  texts  quoted, 
find  their  way  completely  blocked  by  this  one  of 
Corinthians  xiv.  34,  and  say  :  "  Now,  here  is  some- 
thing which  can  neither  be  walked  thi-ough,  nor 
gone  around,  nor  jumped  over.  "  Let  your  women 
keep  silence  in  the  church."  This  means  exactly 
what  it  says,  and  must  be  followed  accordingly. 


2/4  Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda. 

If  a  woman  should  ask,  Why  must  this  be  taken 
literally,  and  those  not  ?  they  can  offer  no  other 
reason  than  because  we  think  so.  If  the  woman 
says,  My  reason  and  conscience  do  not  tell  me  to 
interpret  and  follow  this  text  literally,  they  answer, 
virtually : 

Your  reason  and  conscience  can  guide  you 
in  the  interpretation  of  any  other  text ;  but  here 
you  must  lay  these  aside  and  be  guided  by  ours. 
We  think  this  text  should  be  interpreted  liter- 
ally, and  you  must  accept  our  opinion.  If  she 
asks.  Why  should  I  accept  your  opinion  ?  the 
answer  can  only  be :  Because  we  think  that  in  this 
case  you  ought  to.  If  asked,  Why  must  we  do  in 
this  case  as  you  think  we  ought  to?  the  answer 
can  only  be :  Because  we  think  that-  in  this  case 
you  ought  to  do  as  we  think  you  ought  to.  They 
can  bring  no  higher  authority,  for  they  have  al- 
ready allowed  that  the  texts  making  woman  sub- 
ject to  men  are  not  to  ba  followed  when  her  con- 
science tells  her  otherwise. 

I  ought  to  say  here  that  I  have  myself  no  desire 
to  speak  in  the  church,  or  in  any  public  place  —  I 
should  shrink  from  doing  so ;  but  I  do  like  people 
to  be  sensible  and  logical ;  and  there  is  neither  sense 
nor  logic  in  insisting  that  one  Scripture  command 


Miss  Hunt's  Lettef  to  Lucinda.  275 

shall  be  followed  literally,  while  allowing  that 
many  others  are  not  to  be. 

A  curious  part  of  this  matter  is  that  the  com- 
mand thus  insisted  on  is  one  with  which  man  has 
nothing  to  do.  There  is  no  call  for  his  interfer- 
ence. The  word  "  let "  is  used  here  in  a  general 
sense,  as  in  many  other  cases :  "  Let  him  that  is  on 
the  housetop  not  come  down  " ;  "  Let  him  that 
thirsteth  come."  The  command  concerns  women 
only,  and  its  interpretation  rests  with  her.  Why 
should  man  step  in  between  her  and  her  Creator  ? 
or  even  between  her  and  Paul?  Surel}^  if  her  own 
reason  and  conscience  may  be  trusted  as  guides  in 
the  many  trying  exigencies  of  life,  they  may  also 
be  trusted  here  ;  or  did  the  Almighty  make  wo- 
man capable  of  comprehending  every  text  of  Script- 
ure save  this  particular  one  ?  And,  if  so,  where  is 
it  indicated  that  here  man's  comprehension  shall 
supply  the  deficiency  ? 

Another  curious  part  of  the  matter  is  that  Paul 
himself  directed  how  a  woman  should  speak  in  the 
church ;  or,  rather,  how  she  should  not  —  namely, 
"  with  her  head  uncovered."  The  word  used  is 
"  prophesy."  But  "  prophesy  "  here  does  not  mean 
foretelling,  but  speaking  from  inspiration.  "He 
that  prophesieth  edifieth  the  Church." 


2^6  Miss  Hunt's  Letter  to  Lucinda. 

Your  minister  spoke  truly.  In  questions  of 
right  or  wrong,  every  human  being  should  decide 
for  himself  or  herself  what  is  duty.  A  woman 
may  be  willing  that  a  man  should  decide  for  her ; 
may  prefer  that  he  should;  may  insist  that  he 
should ;  but  when  it  comes  to  authority,  that  of 
her  own  reason  and  conscience  is  supreme. 


THE    SCHOOL.    OF    HOME. 

Let  the  school  of  home  be  a  good  one.  Let  reading  be 
such  as  to  quicken  the  mind  for  better  reading  still ;  for 
the  school  at  home  is  progressive. 


The  baby  is  to  be  read  to.  What  shall  mother  and 
sister  and  father  and  brother  read  to  the  baby  ? 

Babyland.  Babyland  rhymes  and  jingles;  great  big 
letters  and  little  thoughts  and  words  out  of  Babyland. 
Pictures  so  easy  to  understand  that  baby  quickly  learns 
the  meaning  of  light  and  shade,  of  distance,  of  tree,  of 
cloud.  The  grass  is  green  ;  the  sky  is  blue  ;  the  flowers 
—  are  they  red  or  yellow?  That  depends  on  mother's 
house-plants.  Baby  sees  in  the  picture  what  she  sees  in 
the  home  and  out  of  the  window. 

Babyland,  mother's  monthly  picture-and-j ingle  primer 
for  baby's  diversion,  and  baby's  mother-help ;  50  cents 
a  year. 


What,  when  baby  begins  to  read  for  herself?  Our 
Little  Men  and  Women  is  made  to  go  on  with.  Baby- 
land forms  the  reading  habit.  Think  of  a  baby  with  the 
reading  habit!  After  a  little  she  picks  up  the  letters 
and  wants  to  know  what  they  mean.  The  jingles  are 
jingles  still ;  but  the  tales  that  lie  under  the  jingles 
begin  to  ask  questions. 

What  do  Jack  and  Jill  go  up  the  hill  after  water  for  ? 
Isn't  water  down  hill  ?     Baby  is  outgrowing  Babyland, 

No  more  nonsense.  There  is  fun  enough  in  sense. 
The  world  is  full  of  interesting  things ;  and,  if  they  come 
to  a  growing  child  not  in  discouraging  tangles  but  an 
easy  one  at  a  time,  there  is  fun  enough  in  getting  hold 

i 


of  them.     That  is  the  way  to  grow.     Our  Little  Men 
AND  Women  helps  such  growth  as  that.     Beginnings  of 
things  made  easy  by  words  and  pictures ;  not  too  easy. 
The  reading  habit  has  got  to  another  stage. 
A  dollar  for  such  a  school  as  that  for  a  year. 


Then  comes  The  Pansy  with  stories  of  child-life,  tiave. 
at  home  and  abroad,  adventure,  history  old  and  new,  re^ 
ligion  at  home  and  over  the  seas,  and  roundabout  tales 
on  the  International  Sunday  School  Lesson. 

Pansy  the  editor;  The  Pansy  the  magazine.  There 
are  thousands  and  thousands  of  children  and  children  of 
larger  growth  all  over  the  country  who  know  about  Pansy 
the  writer,  and  The  Pansy  the  magazine.  There  are 
thousands  and  thousands  more  who  will  be  glad  to  know. 

A  dollar  a  year  for  The  Pansy. 


The  reading  habit  is  now  pretty  well  established ;  not 
only  the  reading  habit,  but  liking  for  useful  reading ;  and 
useful  reading  leads  to  learning. 

Now  comes  Wide  Awake,  vigorous,  hearty,  not  to  say 
heavy.  No,  it  isn't  heavy,  though  full  as  it  can  be  of 
practical  help  along  the  road  to  sober  manhood  and  wom- 
anhood. Full  as  it  can  be !  There  is  need  of  play  as 
well  as  of  work  ;  and  Wide  Awake  has  its  mixture  of 
work  and  rest  and  play.  The  work  is  all  toward  self- 
improvement  ;  so  is  the  rest ;  and  so  is  the  play.  $2.40 
a  year. 

Specimen    copies   of   all    the   Lothrop   magazines  fof 
fifteen    cents;    any   one    for  five  —  in    postage    stamps' 
Address  D.  Lothrop  Company,  Boston. 

ii 


You  little  know  what  help  there  is  in  books  for  the 
average  housewife. 

Take  Domestic  Problems,  for  instance,  beginning  with 
this  hard  question  :  "  How  may  a  woman  enjoy  the  de- 
lights of  culture  and  at  the  same  time  fulfil  her  duties  to 
family  and  household  ? "  The  second  chapter  quotes  from 
somebody  else  :  "  It  can't  be  done.  I've  tried  it ;  but,  as 
things  now  are,  it  can't  be  done." 

Mrs.  Diaz  looks  below  the  surface.  Want  o^  prepara- 
tion and  culture,  she  says,  is  at  the  bottom  of  a  woman's 
failure,  just  as  it  is  of  a  man's. 

The  proper  training  of  children,  for  instance,  can't  be 
done  without  some  comprehension  of  children  themselves, 
of  what  they  ought  to  grow  to,  their  stages,  the  means  of 
their  guidance,  the  laws  of  their  health,  and  manners. 
But  mothers  get  no  hint  of  most  of  these  things  until  they 
have  to  blunder  through  them.  Why  not  ?  Isn't  the 
training  of  children  woman's  mission  ?  Yes,  in  print,  but 
not  in  practice.  What  is  her  mission  in  practice  ?  Cook- 
ing and  sewing  ! 

Woman's  worst  failure  then  is  due  to  the  stupid  blunder 
of  putting  comparatively  trivial  things  before  the  most  im- 
portant of  all.  The  result  is  bad  children  and  waste  of  a 
generation  or  two — all  for  putting  cooking  and  sewing 
before  the  training  of  children. 

Now  will  any  one  venture  to  say  that  any  particular 
mother,  you  for  instance,  has  got  to  put  cooking  and  sew- 
ing before  the  training  of  children  "i 

Any  mother  who  really  makes  up  her  mind  to  put  t*r 
children  first  can  find  out  how  to  grow  tolerab^  childKi.a 
at  least 


And  that  is  what  Mrs.  Diaz  means  by  preparation  —  5 
kittle  knowledge  beforehand  —  the  little  that  leads  to  more, 

It  can  be  done  ;  and  you  can  do  it !  Will  you  ?  It's  a 
matter  of  choice  ;  and  you  are  the  chooser. 

Domestic  Problems.     By  Mrs.  A.  M.  Diaz.     %i.     D.  Lothrop  Company,  Boston. 

We  have  touched  on  only  one  subject.  The  author 
treats  of  many. 


Dr.  Buckley  the  brilliant  and  versatile  editor  of  the 
Christian  Advocate  says  in  the  preface  of  his  book  on 
northern  Europe  "  I  ho^e  to  impart  to  such  as  have  never 
seen  those  countries  as  clear  a  view  as  can  be  obtained 
from  reading"  and  "My  chief  reason  for  traveling  in 
Russia  was  to  study  Nihilism  and  kindred  subjects." 

This  affords  the  best  clue  to  his  book  to  those  who 
know  the  writer's  quickness,  freshness,  independence, 
force,  and  penetration. 

The  Midnight  Sun,  the  Tsar  and  the  Nihilist.  Adventures  and  Observations  in 
Norway,  Sweden  and  Russia.  By  J.  M.  Buckley,  LL.  D.  72  illustrations,  376 
pages.    ^3.     D.  Lothrop  Company,  Boston. 

Just  short  of  the  liixurious  in  paper,  pictures  and  print 


The  writer  best  equipped  for  such  a  task  has  put  Into 
one  illustrated  book  a  brief  account  of  every  American 
voyage  for  polar  exploration,  including  one  to  the  south 
almost  forgotten. 

American  Explorations  in  the  Ice  Zones.  By  Professor  J.  E.  Nourse,  U.  S.  N 
10  maps,  120  illustrations,  624  pages.  Cloth,  ^3,  gilt  edges  {^3.50,  half-call  ffy 
Xi-  Lothrop  Company,  Boston. 

Not  written  especially  for  boys ;  but  they  claim  it. 


,  SOUTHERN  SeSSL^I  ^'"°""« 

'«>m  Which  It  wiS.  £.!!!!  "*»«•> 


NBN-RFf 

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